«9<*ARY 


. 


RVtNE 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR: 


A  WINTER  IN  MEXICO. 


BY 


GILBERT    HAVEN, 

AUTHOR  OF   "PILGRIM'S  WALLET,"   "NATIONAL  SERMONS,"    "  THE  SAILOR   PREACHER,"  ETC. 


"  Thou  Italy  of  the  Occident, 
Glorious,  gory  Mexico." 

Joachim  Muler. 


The  Silver  is  mine  and  the  Gold  is  mine, 
Saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts." 

Haggai. 


N  E  W    YORK: 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

FRA  KKI.1  N      SQU  A  R  E. 
1875- 


:F   - 

/a  /o 
/? 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

Harper    &    Brothers, 

Id  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


TO 


MY   MOTHER, 


EY  THE   ELDEST,  AND    NOW,  ALAS,  FOR  EARTH  AND  TIME,  THE 

YOUNGEST,  ALSO,  OF  HER  BOYS, 

ON  HER  EIGHTY-EIGHTH  BIRTHDAY,  FEBRUARY  28th,  1875, 

THIS    BOOK 
IS    FONDLY   INSCRIBED. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  I.  — TO   THE   CAPITAL. 

I. 

BEFORE  THE   BEGINNING. 

The  Threshold. — From  Snow  to  Flowers. — A  Character,  and  what  made  him. — 
Our  South  and  its  Ethiop. — The  Bay  and  Blaze  of  Havana. — Off. . .  .Page  17 

II. 

A  DAY    IN    YUCATAN. 

The  First-born.  —  An  Opportunity  accepted.  —  An  Index  Point.  —  Cocoa-nut 
Milk. — The  Market-place. — Euchre  as  a  Food. — A  Grave  Joke. — The  Drink 
of  the  Country. — The  Cocoa  Palm. — The  Native  Dress. — A  Hacienda. — A 
Pre-adamite  Haciendado. — Jenequen. — Prospecting. — Almost  a  Panic. — Done 
into  Rhyme 25 

III. 

THE   SEA-PORT. 

Under  the  Cocoa-nut  Palm. — The  Plaza. — The  Cathedral. — No  Distinction  on 
account  of  Color  either  in  Worshiper  or  Worshiped. — The  Watering-place 
of  Cortez. — How  the  Palm  looks  and  grows. — Other  Trees  of  the  Tropics. — 
Home  Flowers. — July  Breakfast  in  January. — Per  Contra,  a  Norther. — Its 
Utility. — Harbor  and  Fort. — Size  and  Shape  of  the  City. — Its  Scavenger. — 
Its  Houses. — Street  Life. — The  Lord's  Day. — First  Protestant  Service. — The 
Railroad  Inauguration 36 

IV. 

THE    HOT    LANDS. 

From  Idleness  to  Peril. — Solitud. — Chiquihuiti. — Tropical  Forests. — The  Falls 
of  Atoyac. — Wild  Beasts  non  sunt. — Cordova  and  its  Oranges. — Mount  Ori- 
zaba.— Fortin 55 

V. 

ON  THE  STAGE. 

Our  Companions. — Vain  Fear. — The  Plunge. — Coffee  Haciendas. — Peon  Life. 
— Orizaba  City. — The  Mountain -lined  Passway. — The  Cumbres. — The  Last 


8  CONTENTS.    ' 

Smile  of  Day  and  the  Hot  Lands.— Night  and  Useless  Terror.— "  Two-o' clock- 
m-tlu -ni<  uning  Courage." — Organ  Cactus. —  Sunrise. — The  Volcano. — Into 
Puebla  and  tin-  Cars.— The  three  Snow-peaks  together. — Epizaco. — Pulqui. — 
••  There  is  Mexico  I" Page  65 


BOOK  II.— IN  AND  AROUND  THE  CAPITAL. 

I. 

FIRST  WEEK   IN  THE  CAPITAL. 

Hotel  Gillow. — Cost  of  Living. — The  Climate. — Lottery-ticket  Venders. — First 
Sabbath. — First  Protestant  Church. — A  Praise  Meeting. — State  of  the  Work. 
—The  Week  of  Prayer 89 

II. 

FROM  THE  CHURCH   TOP. 

First  Attempt  and  Failure. — At  it  again. — The  Southern  Outlook. — Popocate- 
petl and  Iztaccihuatl. — Cherubusco. — Chapultepec. — Guadalupe. — The  patron 
Saint  of  the  Country. — Round  the  Circle 98 

III. 

FROM   THE   SIDEWALK. 

Views  from  Street  Corners. — Chief  Street. — Shops,  Plaza,  Cathedral. — Pligh 
and  Low  Religion. — Aztec  Calendar  Stone. — The  Sacrificial  Stone. — The 
President's  private  House. —  Hotel  Iturbide. —  Private  Residences.  —  Ala- 
meda      1 10 

IV. 

A   NEW  EVENT   IN   MEXICO. 

Palace  of  the  President. — The  President. — How  he  looks. — What  he  pledges. — 
Former  Property  of  the  Church. — Its  Consequences. — Corruption. — Pospects 
and  Perils 126 

V. 

OLD  AND   NEW   AMONG  THE   SILVER   MINES. 

A  Mediaeval  Castle. — First  Icicle. — Omatuska. — More  about  Pulqui. — A  big 
Scare. — A  Paradise. — Casa  Grande. — A  Sabbath  in  Pachuca. — A  native  Con- 
vert.— Mediaeval  Cavalcade. — The  Visitors. — Mounting  Real  Del  Monte. — 
The  Castle  of  Real. — Gentlemanly  Assassin. — Silver  Factories. — Velasco. — 
A  Reduction. — Haciendado  Riley. — Mexican  Giant's  Causeway. — More  Sil- 
ver Reduction. — Horsemanship  under  Difficulties. — Contraries  balancing  Con- 
traries.— La  Barranca  Grande. — A  bigger  Scare. — A  Wedding. — Miner  and 
Mining. — The  Gautemozin. — The  better  Investment 131 


CONTENTS.  g 

VI. 

ACROSS   LOTS. 

A  drowsy  Beginning. — Paradise  somewhat  Lost. — Trees  of  Paradise. — A  lingual 
Guess  at  the  Aztec  Origin. — Tizayuca. — Zumpango. — The  Lake  System. — 
Guatitlan. — Hotel  San  Pedro. — Into  Town. — Tree  of  Noche  Triste. — Tacuba. 
— Aqueduct  of  San  Cosme. — Tivoli Page  166 

VII. 

THE   TOWN    OF   THE   ANGELS. 

Warnings  unheeded. — Slow  Progress. — Christ  in  the  Inn. — Why  Angelic. — Bad 
Faith  and  worse  Works. — First  English  Service. — Outlook  from  the  Cathe- 
dral.— Tlascala. — The  Volcano. — Inside  View  of  the  Belfry. — Inside  the  Ca- 
thedral.—  Triple  Gilt. —  Cathedral  Service. —  La  Destruccion  de  los  Protes- 
tantes 1 75 

VIII. 

THE   MOST   ANCIENT   AMERICAN    MECCA. 

On  Horse. —  Irrigation. —  Entrance  to  Cholula. —  Deserted  Churches. —  Plaza 
Grande,  and  its  Cortez  Horror. — A  wide-awake  Priest. — A  wide  View  from 
the  Summit. — A  costly  Trifle. — The  Ride  back 191 

IX. 

A    DAY   AND   NIGHT   AT   EL   DESIERTO. 

A  Point  of  View. — The  Woods  :  their  Peril  and  Preservation. — How  we  got 
here. — Chapultepec. — Tacubaya. — Santa  Fe'. — Contadera. — Guajimalpa. — The 
Forest. — The  Shot. — Solitude. — The  Ruin.  —  Its  Inquisition. — A  Bowl  of 
Song. —  Moonlight  Pleasure  and  all-night  Horror. —  Morning  Glories. —  Its 
History. — A  more  excellent  Way. — Home  again 204 

X. 

A    RIDE   ABOUT   TOWN. 

The  Horse  and  its  Rider. — Paseos. — Empress's  Drive. — A  Relic  of  Waterloo. 
— The  Tree  of  Montezuma. — The  Woods. — View  of  Chapultepec. — Baths  of 
Montezuma. — Tacubaya  Gardens. — The  Penyan. — Canal. — Floating  Gardens. 
— Gautemozin. — The  Cafe 219 

XI. 

A   GARDEN    IN   EDEN. 

A  Temptation. — Up  the  Mountains. — The  Cross  of  Cortez. — Sight  of  the  Town 
and  Valley. — The  downward  Plunge. — A  Lounge. — Church  of  Cortez. — The 
Enchanted  Garden. — Idolatry. — The  Market-place. — The  Almanac  against 
Protestantism. —  Palace  of  Cortez. — The  Indian  Garden  of  Maximilian. — A 
Sugar  Hacienda. — The  latter  End. — All  Zones 231 


IO  CONTENTS. 

XII. 

A   WALK    IN    MEXICO. 

The  Market-place. —  The  Murder-place. — Mexic  Art  and  Music. — Aquarius. — 
Ruins,  and  how  thej  were  made. —  A  Funeral. —  San  Fernando  Cemetery. — 
The  English  and  American  also. — Vaminos Page  248 


BOOK  III.— FROM  MEXICO    TO   MATAMORAS. 

I. 

TO  QUERETARO. 

The  Start. — First  and  last  Church  in  the  City. — The  Game-cocks. — First  Scare. 
— Guatitlan  again. — Barrenness. — Gambling  and  Tortilla-making. — Descent 
to  Tula. — A  Bit  of  English  Landscape. — Tula. — Hunt  for  a  Statue. — A  sil- 
ver Heavens  and  Earth. — Juelites. — Mountains  and  a  mounting  Sun. — Vista 
Ilermosa. — Napola. — A  stone  Town. — An  Interior. — The  Stables. — Sombrero 
Walls.  —  Eagle  Tavern.  —  Playing  with  the  Children. — Gamboling  versus 
Gambling. — Cazadero,  the  Bull  Prairie. — Hacienda  ofPalmillas. — Blacksmith 
Idolatry. — Misterio  de  la  Santissima  Trinidad. — 'Tother  Side  up. — Descent 
into  the  Valley  of  San  Juan. — Lone  yellow  Cone. — Longfellow  and  Homer. 
— Elysium  after  much  Turmoil. — A  Dissertation  on  Beggars. — A  Market  Um- 
brella.— In  Perils  among  Robbers. — The  beautiful  Valley  of  San  Juan. — 
Colorado. — A  Turner  Sunset. — Sight  of  Queretaro. — The  Aqueduct. — The 
Bed • 267 

II. 

QUERETARO. 

Into  the  Town. — Maximilian's  Retreat. — Capture  and  Execution. — Hill  of  Bells. 
— Factories  and  Gardens. — Hot-weather  Bath. — A  Home. — Alameda. — Sun- 
day, sacred  and  secular. — A  very  Christian  Name. — Crowded  Market,  and 
empty  Churches.  —  Chatting  in  Church.  —  Priestly  Procession. — Among  the 
Churches. — Hideous  Images. — Handsome  Gardens 285 

III. 
TO  GUANAJUATO. 

\  bad  Beginning.  — A  level  Sea. — Celaya.  — A  Cactus  Tent. —  Salamanca.— 
Irapuato. — Entrance  to  Guanajuato. —  Gleaning  Silver. — The  Hide-and-go- 
seek  City. — A  Revelation 300 

IV. 

A   SILVER,  AND   A   SACRED   TOWN. 

Native  Costume. — Reboza  and  Zarepc. — The  Sombrero. — A  Reduction  Haci- 
enda.— The  Church  in  Guanajuato. — Its   Antipodes. — A   clerical   Acquaint- 


CONTENTS.  T  Y 

ance. — A  mulish  Mule. — "No  quiere." — The  Landscape. — Lettuce. — Calza- 
da. — The  Town  and  Country. — Fish  of  the  Fence. — The  Cactus  and  the  Ass. 
—  Compensation.  —  One-story  City.  —  High  Mass  and  higher  Idolatry. — The 
God  Mary Page  307 

V. 

A   HORSEBACK    RIDE   OVER   THE   SILVER    MOUNTAINS. 

Indian  Dancing  and  Gambling. — A  sleeping  City. — Wood  and  Coal  Carriers. 
— Mineral  de  la  Luz. — A  Mountain  Nest. — Sometimes  up,  sometimes  down. 
— Berrying  and  Burying. — The  Apple-tree  among  the  Trees  of  the  Wood. — 
Off  the  Track. — A  funereal  Tread.  —  Lunch  in  the  Air. — The  Plunge. — A 
Napola  Orchard. — Out  on  the  Plains. — Valley  of  the  Sancho 321 

VI. 

TO   AND    IN    SAN   LUIS    POTOSI. 

Aztec  Music. — Low-hung  but  high-hung  Clouds. — Troops  and  Travelers. — A 
big,  small  Wagon. — Zeal  of  San  Felipe.  —  Lutero  below  Voltaire.  —  Rough 
Places  not  smooth. —  Mesquite  Woods. —  Silver  Hills. —  Two  Haciendas. — 
How  they  Irrigate. — Lassoing. — The  Frescoes  of  Frisco. — Cleft  Cliffs. — The 
Valley  of  San  Luis  Potosi. — Greetings  and  Letters. — The  Church  of  Mary. — 
The  coming  Faith. — A  costly  and  Christly  Flag. — Joseph  and  Mary  wor- 
shiped in  vain  for  Rain 334 

VII. 

OUT   AT   SEA. 

Leaving  Shore. — A  hot  Companion. — Parallel  Mountains. — Parks  and  Divides. 
— Hacienda  of  Bocas. — Gingerbread  Tigs. — A  ragged  Boy  Apollo. — Marriage- 
less  Motherhood. — The  Widow's  Reply. — Sierra  Prieto. — Mortevillos. — Rev- 
eling in  the  Halls  of  Montezuma. — Strife  of  Beggars. — Dusty  Reflections. — 
Venada. — Chalcos. — The  Worship  of  the  dying  Wafer 351 

VIII. 

MID-OCEAN. 

The  "Rolling  Forties."  —  Ceral  Hard-tack.— Not  so  Hard. —  Mexican  Birds. 
— Smoking-girls. — Laguna  Seca. — La  Punta. — First  Breakfast  in  an  Adobe. 
— Hacienda  of  Precita. — The  Spanish  Bayonet. — Mattejuala. — Birnam  Wood 
marching  on  Dunsinane. — The  first  and  last  Mosquito  of  Mexico. — Yankee 
Singing. — Worse  threatened 359 

IX. 

NEARING   SHORE. 

Preparations  against  a  Rancho. — A  golden  Set. — Bonavcntura. — A  Rancho  : 
what  is  it? — Companions. — Aztec  or  Chinese? — Desolation. — Tropic  Thorns 
and  Flowers. — An  Oasis. — Hacienda  of  Solado,  and  its  unexpected  Hospital- 


1 2  '  CONTENTS. 

ities. — Freaks  of  the  Spanish  Bayonet — Green  velvet  Mountains. — The  true 
Protector Page  366 

X. 

INTO    PORT. 

Sunrise. — Villa  de  Gomez  Firias. — A  lost  American  found. — Flowering  Palms. 
— An  unpleasant  Reminder. — A  charming  Park. — Agua  Nueva. — La  Encan- 
tada. — La  Angostura. — Battlemented  Mountains. — Buena  Vista. — The  Battle- 
field.— The  Result. — Why. — Saltillo. — Alameda. — Friends 375 

XL 

MONTEREY. 

Songs  in  the  Night.  —  Open  Fields  near  Saltillo.  —  Effect  of  Irrigation. — 
"The  Rosy-fingered  Dawn." — Gathering  together  of  the  Mountains. —  San 
Gregario. —  A  Thousand-feet  Fall. —  Rinconada. —  Wonders  of  Flowers. — A 
Hole  through  a  Mountain. — The  Saddle  Mountain. — The  Mitre.  —  Santa 
Caterina. —  A  Tin  God. —  A  familiar  Color. —  St.  Peter. —  No  Bathing  after 
Midday. — The  Smallness  of  Mexican  Heads. — Miss  Rankin's  Work. — Strife 
between  Brethren. — Its  Benefits. — The  two  Dogs. — The  Eye  of  the  Town. — 
Revolutions 387 

XII. 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END. 

Rancho  de  Villa  de  General  Trevina. — A  Sign  of  Home. — A  misty  Escort. — 
Blistering  Morin. — Chaparral. — The  changed  Face  of  Nature. — The  Yankee- 
Hat  and  Hut.  —  Mesas,  or  Table-lands. — The  bottom  Rancho:  Garcia. — 
Mier. — Comargo. — The  Grand  River  unseen,  yet  ever  near. — Last  Night  in  a 
Rancho. — La  Antigua  Renosa 398 

XIII. 

JOLTINGS  AND  JOTTINGS. 

A  Creator  and  an  Imitator. — Church-making  and  Carriage-writing. — The  old- 
est Church  and  the  youngest. — Compagnons  dn  Voyage. — A  Brandy-sucker. 
— Prohibition  for  Mexico. — Talks  with  the  Coachman  and  Mozo. — Hides  and 
Shoes. — San  Antonio. — Its  Casa  and  Inmates* — Rancho  Beauties. — Women's 
Rights  in  Mexico. — Sermonizing  in  the  Wilderness. — A  Night  on  Stage-top. 
— Fantastic  Forms. — Spiritual  Phantasms. — Light  in  a  dark  Place. — Mata- 
moras  and  Brownsville 403 

XIV. 
THE   FINISH. 

Coach,  not  Couch. —  A  new  Tread-mill. —  Rascality  of  a  Sub-treasurer. — The 
same  Country,  but  another  Driver. —  Live-oak  versus  Mesquite. —  A  sandy 
Desert  as  large  as  Massachusetts. — Not  a  complete  Desert. — A  dirty,  but  hos- 


CONTENTS.  j5 

pitable  Rancho. — Thousands  of  Cattle  on  no  Hill. — A  forty-mile  Fence. — 
A  Patch  of  four  hundred  square  Miles. —  Mr.  King's  Rancho  and  Pluck. 
—  Perils.  —  Mr.  Murdock's  Murder.  —  Corpus  Christi. —  Indianola. —  Good- 
bye  Page  418 

XV. 

CHRISTIAN    WORK   IN   MEXICO. 

Not  yet. — The  First  Last. — A  Telegram  and  its  Meaning. — Perils  and  Perplexi- 
ties of  Church  purchasing. — Temptation  resisted. — Success  and  Dedication. 
— Cure  Hidalgo  and  his  Revolution. — Iturbide  and  Intolerance. — Beginning 
of  the  End. — The  Mexican  War,  and  its  Religious  Effects. — The  Bible  and  the 
Preacher. — The  first  Revolt  from  Romanism. — Abolition  of  Property  and  of 
Institutions. — Invasion  of  the  Papacy  through  France  and  Maximilian. — Ex- 
pulsion thereof  through  America  and  Juarez.  —  The  Constitutionalists  the 
first  Preachers. — The  first  Martyr:  "Viva  Jesus  !  Viva  Mexico  !" — Francisco 
Aguilar  and  the  first  Church. —  The  Bible  and  his  Death. —  First  Appeal 
abroad. — Response. — Rev.  Dr.  Riley  and  his  Work. — Excitement,  Peril,  Prog- 
ress.—  President  Juarez,  the  first  Protestant  President. —  The  chief  native 
Apostle,  Manual  Aguas. — His  Excommunication  by  and  of  the  Archbishop. — 
A  powerful  Attack  on  the  Church. — His  Death. — The  Entrance  of  the  Amer- 
ican Churches  in  their  own  Form. — Their  present  Status. — The  first  Ameri- 
can Martyr,  Stephens ;  and  how  he  was  butchered. — San  Andres. — Govern- 
mental Progress. — The  Outlook. — Postfatory 424 


Appendix  A 455 

Appendix  B 456 

Appendix  C 461 

Appendix  D 466 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 

Cathedral  and  Plaza  by  Moonlight Frontispiece 

The  Bay  of  Havana 23 

Governor's  Palace  at  Vera  Cruz 37 

Vera  Cruz 45 

Fountain  at  Vera  Cruz 50 

Old  Bridge  of  Atoyac 59 

Orange  Grove,  Cordova 61 

A  Peon's  House 66 

Great  Bridge  of  Mathata ' 67 

View  of  Orizaba 69 

River  at  Orizaba 71 

The  Organ  Cactus 77 

Maguey  Plant 82 

The  Valley  of  Mexico,  from  the  American  official  Map faces  89 

Mexican  Flower-girl 91 

First  Protestant  Church 94 

Chapultepec 101 

Church  of  Guadalupe faces  102 

The  Lottery-ticket 104 

Iztaccihuatl '. 106 

The  Dome 108 

The  Market-place,  City  of  Mexico 112 

San  Cosme  Aqueduct,  City  of  Mexico 117 

The  Palace  of  Mexico 119 

The  Aztec  Calendar  Stone 122 

The  Sacrificial  Stone faces  123 

Interior  of  a  modern  Mexican  House 124 

The  Palisades  of  Regla 153 

A  Mexican  General 158 

Tree  of  Triste  Noche 171 

Garden  of  the  Tivolis,  San  Cosme 1 73 

Street  View  in  Pucbla 177 


X 6  ILL  USTRA  TIONS. 

Pagb 

Ruins  of  the  covered  Way  to  the  Inquisition 179 

The  Cathedral  of  Puebla 182 

Convent  of  San  Domingo,  City  of  Mexico 186 

Prisoners  of  the  Inquisition 188 

Church  built  by  Cortez 195 

Pyramid  of  Cholula 198 

View  from  the  Pyramid  of  Cholula , 200 

The  Tree  of  Montezuma 222 

The  Baths  of  Montezuma 225 

The  Canal 227 

Floating  Gardens 229 

Saw-mill 245 

Planting  Corn 247 

Scene  in  Market 249 

A  Water-carrier 255 

Soldiers'  Monument  in  the  American  Cemetery 261 

Cactus,  and  Woman  kneading  Tortillas 270 

Mexican  Beggar 280 

Aqueduct  of  Queretaro 284 

Queretaro 288 

A  Cotton  Factory,  Queretaro 291 

Church  of  San  Diego,  Guanajuato 305 

Mexican  Wash-house faces  317 

Funeral  of  Governor  Manuel  Doblado 317 

Mexican  Muleteer 336 

The  Virgin 348 

Joseph 349 

Buena  Vista 381 

Saddle  Mountain 391 

Bishop's  Residence,  Monterey 393 

Alameda,  Monterey 397 

The  Itinerary — from  Vera  Cruz  to  Matamoras 415 

Church  of  San  Francisco,  City  of  Mexico 425 

First  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  City  of  Mexico 430 

A  distant  View  of  the  Church  of  the  Ex -convent  of  San  Francisco,  City  of 

Mexico 437 

Church  of  San  Jose  de  Gracia 442 

Manuel  Aguas 444 

John  L.  Stephens " 448 

Tower  and  Castle  of  Acapulco,  Mexico — Scene  of  the  recent  Massacre. ...  451 


BOOK    I. 

TO   THE  CAPITAL. 


OUR   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


I. 

BEFORE   THE  BEGINNING. 

The  Threshold. — From  Snow  to  Flowers. — A  Character,  and  what  made  him. 
— Our  South  and  its  Ethiop. — The  Bay  and  Blaze  of  Havana. — Off. 

There  is  properly  a  path  to  the  front  door  of  a  house,  or  at 
least  a  few  steps  ere  its  entrance  is  reached.  So  every  voyage  has 
a  preliminary,  a  before -the -door -step  experience.  This  is  some- 
times excluded  entirely  from  the  journal  of  the  journey,  sometimes 
inserted  in  the  preface  —  a  proper  place  for  the  preliminaries  (a 
fore -talk  best  occurring  at  the  fore -threshold),  sometimes  made 
into  Chapter  First.  The  latter  course  is  here  adopted,  though 
every  reader  is  at  liberty  to  skip  the  chapter,  leap  over  the  thresh- 
old, and  press  instantly  into  the  centre  of  the  house,  that  is,  the 
volume. 

The  nearest  things  are  often  the  farthest  off,  the  farthest  off  the 
nearest.  This  is  true  of  places  as  well  as  of  peoples.  We  know 
more  of  Bismarck  than  of  our  next-block  neighbor,  of  Paris  than 
of  many  an  American  town.  This  law  is  verified  in  our  knowl- 
edge, or  ignorance  rather,  of  our  nearest  national  neighbor,  Mexico. 
Few  books  are  written,  less  are  read,  upon  the  most  novel  land  on 
our  continent,  and  one  of  the  most  attractive  on  any  continent. 
Prescott's  "Conquest"  is  esteemed  a  sort  of  historical  romance, 
the  very  charm  of  his  style  adding  to  the  unreality  of  his  theme. 
And  if  it  be  reckoned  strict  history,  it  is  still  history ;  not  a  living, 
breathing  power,  as  is  England  or  Italy,  Germany  or  Russia,  but 


T8  OUR  .XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

a  vivid  fact  of  three  centuries  and  over  ago,  a  mediaeval  story  of 
marvel  and  mystery.  In  fact,  Prescott's  "Conquest"  has  made 
that  of  its  subject,  Cortez,  to  fade.  And  one  is  half  tempted  to  be- 
lieve that  the  real  conquistador  was  not  the  strong-brained,  strong- 
limbed,  strong-souled  Spaniard,  but  the  half-blind  and  wholly  med- 
itative Bostonian.  The  Achilles  and  his  Homer  are  worthy  of 
their  several  fame.  Yet  the  land  on  which,  or  out  of  which,  each 
won  his  chief  glory  is  still  superior  to  them  both.  A  run  along 
some  of  its  chief  paths  of  interest  may  make  this  fact  patent  to 
other  eyes. 

Just  as  our  North  was  putting  on  its  winter  night-robes,  which 
it  did  not  take  off  for  four  long  months,  I  packed  my  valise,  three 
of  them,  as  became  a  "  carpet-bagger,"  and  moved  southward. 

Snow  chased  me  as  far  as  Richmond  ;  moist,  mild  June  met 
me  at  Montgomery;  oranges,  in  clusters,  plucked  fresh  from  the 
boughs,  were  passed  through  the  cars  near  Mobile ;  and  New  Or- 
leans welcomed  me  to  summer  skies,  and  showers,  and  flowers.  A 
Northern  touch  of  sharp  and  almost  icy  weather  made  the  steamer 
for  Havana  less  unwelcome.  So  a  glimpse  at  good  friends,  and 
a  coming  and  going  grasp  of  hands,  including  a  coming  but  not 
going  grasp  of  hearts,  and  the  steamer  and  I  are  off. 

A  character  that  I  met  on  the  steamer,  by  its  strangeness  re- 
lieved the  sea -qualms,  and,  if  for  no  other  reason,  deserves  a 
sketch.  He  was  a  type  of  a  vanishing  class — few,  I  hope,  at  any 
time,  but  not  without  existence.  He  was  a  Havana  planter,  who 
had  come  to  New  Orleans  to  sell  his  crop,  and  was  returning  brim- 
ful of  cash  and  whisky  ;  nay,  not  brimful  of  the  latter,  or,  if  so,  with 
great  capacity  of  enlargement — worse  than  some  prolix  preachers 
possess  over  their  text.  When  the  captain  entered  the  cabin,  he 
greeted  him  with  a  shower  of  oaths — not  in  rage,  but  in  good  hu- 
mor— that  being  almost  his  only  vocabulary.  He  called  constantly 
for  every  sort  of  liquor — beer,  gin,  wine,  whisky.  He  drank  all 
the  three  days  and  nights  like  a  fish,  if  a  fish  ever  drinks.  It  never 
drinks  such  stuff  as  he  constantly  poured  down  his  inflamed  throat. 
The  stuff  that  went  in  and  that  came  out  were  alike  horrible. 


A   FREE  RELIGIONIST.  I9 

A  clever  colored  lad  from  Philadelphia  was  the  special  object 
of  his  contemptuous  detestation.  He  ordered  him  to  get  the 
liquors  and  hot  water  every  few  minutes  until  near  midnight. 
When  the  fires  were  out,  and  hot  water  was  not  to  be  had,  and  the 
bar  shut,  and  the  liquors  also  absent,  then  he  raved  at  the  lad  for 
not  waking  up  steward  and  purser,  and  securing  the  delectable 
elements.  If  the  boy  went  slowly  to  his  impossible  task,  how  he 
cursed  him  !  how  he  blasphemed  his  people  !  how  he  cursed  the 
Abolitionists  for  setting  them  free  !  declaimed  against  Massachu- 
setts in  particular  for  her  share  in  this  matter,  and  declared  their 
incapacity  for  liberty,  though  the  boy  was  tenfold  more  capable 
of  freedom  than  himself.  Yet  he  was  as  shrewd  as  any  other 
Yankee,  and  said  that  slavery  was  as  good  as  dead  in  Cuba,  and 
he  had  persuaded  his  wife,  and  sold  off  all  his  "niggers"  when  he 
could  get  something  for  them.  I  am  sure  they  were  glad  to  get 
away  from  the  lash  of  his  tongue  and  arm,  and  I  pitied  the  hired 
hands  on  whom  he  voided  the  rheum  of  an  arrogant  disposition,  a 
trained  contempt  and  hatred,  a  false  theory,  and  a  fearful  appetite. 
Nay,  his  wife  must  suffer  often  from  that  scourge. 

He  was  a  good  Romanist  withal,  though  without  any  of  the 
orthodoxy  of  his  Church.  He  said  that  he  prayed  nightly  to  the 
Virgin,  but  he  did  not  believe  in  her,  or  Christ,  or  the  Bible,  or 
any  thing  but  God.  I  said,  "If  you  believe  in  God,  you  believe 
in  Christ,  for  Jesus   Christ  is  God."     "Jesus  Christ !"  he  broke 

forth;  " Jesus  Christ!"     It  was  the  worst  oath  I  had  ever 

heard.  I  called  him  quick  to  his  senses,  and  he  halted  a  moment 
in  his  mad  and  profane  career.  He  was  a  Free  Religionist,  like 
three  others  whom  I  have  met  on  this  trip,  two  of  whom  were  also 
European  Roman  Catholics,  one  a  Bostonian,  showing  that  there 
is  no  distinction  of  clime  or  race  in  this  anti-faith.  Like  the 
others,  he  showed  his  free  religion  and  modern  theology  by  most 
outrageous  swearing.  It  is  the  true  creed  of  that  churchless 
church,  and  shows  that  men  who  profess  to  deny  damnation,  hell, 
Christ,  and  even  God  himself,  are  most  profuse  in  using  terms  which 
show  that  these  are  the  profoundest  beliefs  of  their  real  nature. 


20  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

I  pitied  the  poor  rich  man,  and  the  system  of  religion  and  so- 
ciety that  had  turned  such  a  creature  of  holy  possibilities  into  a 
demon  j  and  I  prayed  all  the  more  earnestly  for  the  abolition  of 
the  devil  of  drink,  and  that  it  might  speedily  follow  to  eternal  de- 
struction its  kindred  demon  already  slain. 

What  wonderful  blessings  has  Abolition  brought  to  all  those  who 
were  held,  like  this  rich  victim,  fast  in  more  slavish  chains !  Our 
white  brethren  will  rejoice  as  much  over  the  liberty  it  has  given 
them  and  their  sons  as  in  that  which  it  has  given  their  darker 
brothers.  It  has  made  such  characters  as  this  impossible.  Men 
may  drink  yet,  and  curse  Christ  and  his  Church,  but  they  can  not 
be  developed  into  such  frightful  specimens  of  diseased  humanity. 

He  made  me  think  of  a  like  character  I  met  on  the  road  from 
Suez  to  Cairo.  He  was  a  genteel,  well-dressed  Turkish  merchant, 
with  his  nice  silk  jacket  "all  buttoned  down  before"  and  behind, 
and  tasteful  silk  breeches.  He  was  bringing  some  Nubian  boys  to 
the  Cairene  market.  He  kept  tormenting  the  poor  lads  by  touch- 
ing their  arms,  cheeks,  and  legs,  anywhere,  with  the  burning  end 
of  his  cigar.  He  laughed  at  their  silent  cringes,  and  looked  at  us 
as  if  expecting  reciprocal  smiles.  Had  we  known  his  language, 
we  would  have  cursed  him  to  his  face.  If  such  were  his  jokes, 
what  must  have  been  his  treatment  of  them  when  roused  to  mad- 
ness, as  he  undoubtedly  often  was !  He  was  very  devout  withal, 
and  at  the  sunset  station  was  first  from  the  cars,  and  on  the  wilder- 
ness gravel,  in  sight  of  all,  was  making  his  prostrations  and  mut- 
tering his  prayers. 

It  is  this  frightful  exception  that  proves  the  rule,  an  exception 
not  so  infrequent  as  it  ought  to  have  been,  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bleby 
shows  in  his  late  most  interesting  book,  entitled  "  Romance  without 
Fiction  ;  or,  Sketches  from  the  Port-folio  of  an  Old  Missionary," 
in  which  he  gives  thrilling  illustrations  of  hardnesses  of  heart  and 
cruelties  of  conduct  in  the  English  West  Indies,  and  by  English 
gentlemen,  and  clergymen  even,  that  are  harrowing  after  almost  a 
century  has  passed  since  their  enactment.  All  our  Sunday-schools, 
North  and  South,  should  read  this  vivid  record  of  modern  martyr- 


FINDING    THE  ETHIOP.  21 

dom,  not  less  horrible  and  holy  than  that  given  by  Fox,  and  exe- 
cuted by  false  Christians  upon  the  true  in  the  Middle  and  the 
later  ages.  The  evil  that  wrought  it  has  ceased — thanks  be  to 
God ! — in  most  lands,  and  will  soon  cease  in  all. 

All  this  conduct  was  simply  because  this  comely  lad  was  color- 
ed. I  thought  I  had  escaped  from  caste  and  all  its  effects.  When 
I  mounted  the  Yazoo  I  did  not  expect  to  see  colorphobia  in  any 
shape  until  I  had  gotten  back  to  our  beloved  country,  when  I  again 
expected  to  see  it  everywhere,  in  every  shape.  But  the  presence 
was  not  to  be  put  by.  It  seemed  even  providential ;  for  the  first 
Sunday  that  I  spent  in  the  South,  only  the  week  previous,  I  opened 
my  Testament  and  lighted  upon  the  passage,  "  The  angel  of  the 
Lord  spake  unto  Philip,  saying,  'Arise  and  go  into  the  south  coun- 
try.' "  The  next  verse  says,  "  He  arose  and  went,  and  lo  !  a  man, 
an  Ethiop."  It  was,  seemingly,  a  surprise  to  him  that  he  was  sent 
to  this  black  Gentile.  But  he  was  without  prejudice  of  color, 
though  tempted,  as  a  Jew,  by  that  of  blood  and  faith.  For  these  lat- 
ter reasons  he  may  have  hesitated  a  little,  for  the  Holy  Spirit  has 
to  enforce  the  order  of  the  angel,  and  he  says  to  Philip,  "  Go 
and  glue  thyself  to  this  chariot."  As  the  Testament  was  being 
read  in  course,  I  can  hardly  say  the  passage  was  selected  by  lot  or 
of  the  Lord  ;  yet  it  struck  me  very  forcibly,  and  I  fancied  (was  it 
fancy?)  that  the  ordering  in  this  case  was  providential.  I  had 
arisen  and  gone  into  the  South  country,  and  had  found  there  the 
Ethiop,  and  now  heard  the  Spirit  say,  "Glue  thyself" — this  the 
original  means — "to  him."  I  saw  in  his  conversion  the  regenera- 
tion of  all  our  South  land  and  North  land,  too  ;  for  the  Lord  will 
uplift  the  whole  nation  only  as  we  uplift  our  long  down-trodden 
brethren  into  Christian  oneness  with  ourselves.  The  Ethiop  is 
riding  already  in  his  chariot,  and  as  Lowell  wittily  somewhere,  for 
substance,  says,  "  The  white  man  will  be  willing  enough  to  run 
along  by  his  side,  and  accept  a  seat  with  him,  when  the  black  man 
rides  in  his  own  chariot." 

But  our  South  country  was  not  sufficiently  South.  So  I  am  sent 
yet  farther  into  the  South  country — the  "  mid  country,"  as  the  orig- 


22  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

inal  hath  it  —  till  I  find  myself  where  our  "Sunny  South"  is  far 
away  to  the  north,  and  where  even  our  country  is  printed  on  the 
map  "the  United  States  of  the  North."  Much  as  some  of  our 
good  neighbors  may  dislike  to  be  called  Northern  people,  they  are 
compelled  to  endure  that  affliction  from  Mexican  lips.  This  proud 
and  sensitive  nation  calls  itself"  the  United  States  of  Mexico,"  and 
it  will  not  allow  another  body  of  commonwealths  on  the  continent 
to  call  itself  "the  United  States  of  America." 

If  our  brethren  had  achieved  their  independence  they  might 
have  been  compelled  to  conform  to  this  nomenclature,  and  called 
their  country  the  Central  United  States.  Fortunately,  they  can 
and  will  yet  rejoice  in  the  continental  title  which  includes  centre 
and  circumference  in  its  all-embracing  area. 

This  experience  on  the  steamer  has  led  to  all  these  musings. 
Better  these  than  that  dreary  heaving  of  the  stomach  and  the  sea. 
How  the  outside  and  the  inside  miserably  harmonize !  The  gray 
I  get  glimpses  of  through  that  bit  of  a  hole  in  the  side  of  the  ship, 
as  the  berth  tips  over,  lets  me  sickly  see  a  like  sick  sea.  The 
waves  toss  wearily  on  their  bed,  and  I  am  glad,  in  a  miserable  way, 
that  I  have  even  this  sort  of  communion  with  nature. 

The  Yazoo  carries  us  to  Havana  and  to  midsummer  in  sixty 
hours.  The  hot  bay  seems  hotter  than  New  York's  hottest.  Its 
round  rim  is  ablaze  with  direct  and  reflected  burnings.  The  gold- 
en sand-hills  shoot  back  the  golden  rays  in  increased  fervor  and 
brilliance.  The  palm  gives  a  shadeless  shade,  as  would  an  um- 
brella stuck  on  the  top  of  a  twenty-foot  pole.  The  catcus,  least 
lovely  and  not  least  useful  of  tropical  plants,  thick  sets  its  quoit- 
like leaves  with  thorns.  Deep  sheds  cover  the  quays,  protecting 
from  the  fiery  blaze  both  man  and  beast :  which  is  which,  is  yet  un- 
decided, since  both  are  beasts  here,  the  mule  often  less  so  than  the 
man.  Under  their  broad  roofs  goes  ceaselessly  on  the  busy  load- 
ing of  sugar  and  oranges  and'bananas,  the  busy  unloading  of  bales 
and  barrels  of  Northern  fields  and  mills. 

The  slave  is  still  here.  He  is  a  vanished  institution  northward 
across  that  blue  gulf,  and  already  in  his  last  stages  of  serfhood 


PROSPECTIVE  LIBERTY  AND  POSSIBLE    CULTURE. 


23 


here.  He  exhibits,  in  this  decay  of  brutehood  and  beginning  of 
manhood,  some  traces  of  both  natures.  Here  is  a  big,  oily  fellow, 
lifting  freight  out  of  the  New  York  steamer.  He  is  as  lithe  as  a 
Greek  wrestler,  and,  like  him,  anointed  with  fresh  oil,  his  own  oil, 
extracted  by  the  Adamic  curse,  not  from  his  brow  alone,  but  from 
his  back  and  breast  and  legs  and  arms,  even  the  whole  body. 
Like  the  precious  oil  on  Aaron's  head,  it  flows  down  to  the  bot- 
tom of  his  garments,  or  would  if  he  had  any  on,  a  convert  alone 
composing  his  wardrobe. 


THE   BAY   OF   HAVANA. 


He  will  make  a  good  Touissant,  give  him  education,  or  a  bad 
one  if  he  has  not  soon  given  him  liberty.  This  he  is  soon  to 
have ;  and  some  future  visitor  may  see  him  clothed  and  in  his  right 
mind,  well  cultured,  sitting  in  the  council  chamber  or  standing  in 
the  pulpit,  serving  in  high  places  as  he  now  serves  in  low. 

This  glimpse  from  the  bay  is  all  I  can  enjoy  ;  for  the  steamer 
City  of  Merida  is  in,  and  will  leave  before  night  for  Vera  Cruz. 
The  vessel  must  be  off  before  sundown,  or  it  can  not  leave  for  two 


24  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

days  ;  for  this  is  the  night  before  Christmas,  and  the  Church  au- 
thorities forbid  all  leaving  of  ships  or  doing  of  any  other  work  on 
this  holiday,  except  on  payment  into  their  palms,  professedly  into 
her  treasury,  of  double  fees  of  doubloons  ;  so,  to  escape  commit- 
ting the  sin  or  paying  the  price  of  bribery,  the  captain  is  deter- 
mined to  get  outside  the  Castle  before  sunset  vespers  ring. 

The  hot  streets  are  touched ;  the  collector  and  commandant  are 
paid  their  demanded  and  needless  fee  ;  the  filth  and  fever  of  the 
narrow  streets  about  the  wharf  are  duly  interviewed  ;  a  coachman 
lashes  his  sick  horses  from  officer  to  officer  ;  a  cup  of  coffee  is  drank 
at  those  best  saloons  of  Spanish-speaking  countries ;  and  some  ten 
dollars  are  spent  for  the  privilege  of  entering  the  port  and  exchan- 
ging steamers.  Then  the  black  sides  of  the  goodly  steamer  are 
scaled,  and  Havana  is  left  almost  or  ere  it  is  reached. 

"  Out  to  sea  the  streamers  fly." 

We  leave  the  port  left  three  centuries  and  a  half  ago  by  a  dar 
ing  soldier- farmer,  with  his  small  accompaniment  of  ships  and 
soldiers,  for  the  land,  whisperings  of  whose  wonders  had  allured 
the  commandant  of  Cuba  to  embark  his  treasures  in  its  dis- 
covery and  subjugation  ;  and  who  also,  less  wisely  for  himself, 
but  not  for  the  world,  had  been  induced  to  give  command  of  the 
fleet  to  a  reconciled  foeman,  who  had  made  peace  with  his  adver- 
sary, that  he  might  thus  gain  over  him  the  greater  victory. 

Velasquez,  however,  began  to  fear  him  before  he  sailed,  and  had 
•revoked  his  commission.  But  Cortez,  before  he  had  received  of- 
ficial knowledge  of  the  revocation,  hoisted  anchor  and  sail,  and 
fled  in  the  night.  We  follow  after  at  not  far  from  the  same  hour. 
The  city  lights  glimmer  along  the  shore  ere  we  lose  sight  of  it  and 
them,  and  we  skim  all  night  along  the  way  that  adventurer  sailed. 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS.  2^ 


II. 

A  DAY  IN  YUCATAN. 

The  First-born.  —  An  Opportunity  accepted.  —  An  Index  Point. — Cocoa-nut 
Milk. — The  Market-place. — Euchre  as  a  Food. — A  Grave  Joke. — The  Drink 
of  the  Country. — The  Cocoa  Palm. — The  Native  Dress. — A  Hacienda. — A 
Pre-adamite  Haciendado. — Jenequen. — Prospecting. — Almost  a  Panic. — Done 
into  Rhyme. 

Every  thing  is  affected  by  first  impressions.  Sometimes  they 
can  never  be  overcome.  That  like  or  dislike  often  abides  incura- 
ble. The  first  sight  of  a  foreign  shore  is  a  love  or  a  hate  forever. 
How  perfect  Ireland  is  in  my  memory,  because  it  looked  so  beauti- 
ful, rising,  a  green  wave  of  stillness  and  strength,  out  of  that  sick 
and  quaking  sea,  over  which  I  had  been  rolling  so  long !  Egypt 
is  not  a  river  of  verdure  so  much  as  a  strip  of  blazing  sand,  for 
Alexandria,  and  not  Cairo,  is  its  first-born  in  my  experience. 

Mexico  has  its  first  picture  in  my  gallery.  Whatever  grandeurs 
of  mountain  or  glories  of  forest  it  may  unfold,  its  first  impression 
will  always  be  that  first  day  in  Yucatan.  I  never  dreamed  a  month 
before  of  seeing  Yucatan.  Even  if  Mexico  itself  had  crossed  the 
mind  as  a  possibility  of  experience,  Yucatan  had  never  been  in- 
cluded in  that  concept.  That  prettily  sounding  name  was  as  far 
off  as  Cathay  or  Bokhara. 

Yucatan  was,  to  me.  Central  America  ;  a  museum  of  ancient 
monuments  ;  an  out-of  the-world  corner.  In  fact,  it  did  not  belong 
to  Mexico  till  Maximilian's  time.  He  annexed  it,  and  they  hold 
together  still.  We  often  strike  an  unknown  rock  in  our  sail  through 
life,  and  Yucatan  was  the  unexpected  shoal  on  which  we  first 
stranded.     It  happened  in  this  wise  : 

The  City  of  Merida  makes  a  landing  as  near  as  possible  to  the 


2Q  OL'R  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

city  after  which  it  is  named.  This  city  is  twenty  miles  from  the 
shore,  in  the  peninsula  of  Yucatan.  It  has  sixty  thousand  inhab- 
itants, and  is  the  centre  of  a  vast  hemp-producing  country.  This 
hemp  finds  a  ready  market  in  New  York.  Hence  the  pause  at 
this  spot  j  hence  the  name  of  our  vessel.  It  is  to  land  stores  for 
the  big  city,  and  to  take  hemp  for  the  bigger  country. 

The  steamer  lies  four  miles  from  shore.  Wearied  with  its  close 
confinement,  three  passengers,  two  of  whom  are  General  Palmer, 
president  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad,  who,  with 
General  Rosecrans,  is  seeking  the  extension  of  that  system  in 
Mexico,  and  Mr.  Parish,  their  European  financial  representative, 
propose  to  spend  on  shore  the  day  in  which  we  are  to  remain  here. 
We  are  met  with  protestations  from  various  quarters.  We  are  told 
that  we  will  be  sun-struck  ;  will  get  the  calentura,  or  fever  ;  that 
the  fleas  will  take  possession  of  us  ;  that  a  Norther  will  arise,  and 
we  can  not  get  back  to  the  steamer;  and  thus  hobgoblins  dire 
are  piled  on  our  path.  The  American  minister,  returning  home, 
grand  and  genial,  adds  his  preventive  persuasions.  But  none  of 
these  things  move  us.  We  go.  The  captain  of  the  boat  which  is 
rowing  us  ashore  enlivens  our  depressed  spirits  with  encouraging 
stories  about  the  abundance  of  monkeys  and  parrots,  of  lions  and 
tigers,  and  deer  and  wild  boars,  and  every  such  terror  and  delight 
— none  of  which  we  see. 

We  land  at  a  wharf  covered  with  bales  of  hemp,  and  brown-skin- 
ned natives  in  their  white  suits.  On  it  stands  a  small,  pale-faced 
gentleman,  whom  we  find  to  be  Mr.  Tappan,  of  Boston,  the  con- 
sular agent,  and  grandson  of  the  minister  who  wrote  the  plaintive 
and  pretty  verses  beginning, 

"There  is  an  hour  of  peaceful  rest." 

It  is  almost  always  fortunate  for  an  American  abroad  if  the  United 
States  official  be  an  American.  He  knows  his  language,  the  first 
important  consideration,  and  he  knows  what  the  visitor  wants  to 
know,  the  second  and  not  less  important  consideration.  Our  Bos- 
ton friend  is  expert  in  these  two  excellences.     He  takes  us  across 


THE   COLLECTOR'S  FAMILY.  27 

the  blazing  sands  of  this  holiday  season  to  the  cool  arches  of  the 
collector's  house.  That  gentlemanly  official  welcomes  us  to  Pro- 
gresso,  the  name  of  this  new  town.  This  name  shows  its  newness, 
and  also,  possibly,  that  a  Yankee  had  something  to  do  with  its 
christening ;  for  the  Mexican  has  hardly  yet  learned  that  there  be 
such  a  thing  as  progress,  much  less  that  it  can  be  concentrated  into 
a  town,  though  he  indulge  in  titular  progress,  and  put  into  names 
what  his  Northern  brothers  put  into  fact. 

Our  gentlemanly  collector  leads  us  through  his  official  rooms 
into  the  domestic  apartments,  and  introduces  us  to  his  family.  He 
is  a  Spaniard,  his  wife  a  Cuban,  and  his  three  adopted  daughters 
are  representatives  of  the  three  races,  so  called,  that  hold  harmoni- 
ous possession  of  this  soil.  They  consist  of  a  white  young  lady  of 
Anglo-Saxon  lightness  of  complexion,  seemingly  of  a  Northern  Eu- 
ropean origin,  her  adopted  parents  being  dark  to  her  ;  another, 
slightly  her  junior,  whose  tint  is  of  that  Afric  sort  that  Mrs.  Kem- 
ble  Butler  deemed  richer  than  any  European,  and  whose  opinion 
our  former  aristocracy  confirmed  by  their  conduct  ;  and  the  third 
was  a  pure  Indian  belle,  none  the  less  beautiful  in  contour  and 
complexion,  a  half-way  house  between  these  two  extremes  of  human 
colors.  We  did  not  see  the  Pocahontas  of  the  family,  but  the 
Cleopatra  and  Boadicea  were  among  our  agreeable  entertainers. 
They  were  dressed  just  alike,  in  neat,  light,  brown-checked  mus- 
lins, with  girlish  modesty  of  array  and  manner  that  was  cultivated 
and  charming.  Our  ignorance  of  Spanish  put  a  barrier  between 
us,  but  their  bearing  was  sisterly  and  filial ;  and  we  accepted  this 
index  of  the  New  America  as  a  token  of  the  superiority  of  Yucatan 
over  the  United  States,  and  a  proof  of  the  fitness  of  the  name  of 
the  town.  Had  many  an  American  father  recognized,  not  his 
adopted,  but  his  actual  family,  a  like  variety  would  have  been  visi- 
ble about  the  paternal  board.  It  will  yet  be,  and  without  sin  or 
shame,  as  in  this  cultivated  circle. 

The  host  offered  us  the  milk  of  the  cocoa-nut  in  large  goblets, 
and  grapes  preserved  in  their  natural  shape.  One  cocoa-nut  makes 
a  tumbler  of  limpid  water  sweet  and  agreeable.     His  open  apart- 


28  OUR   XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

ments  let  the  cooling  breezes  blow  through,  and  we  rejoiced  an 
hour  in  the  shelter  from  the  July  heat  of  December,  and  the  stim- 
ulus of  a  Long  Branch  July  breeze. 

Then  comes  a  walk  through  Progresso.  This  city,  like  our  new 
Western  enterprises,  is  better  laid  out  than  settled.  It  has  its 
Straight,  broad  streets  running  through  chaparral,  its  grand  plaza, 
with  scarcely  a  corner  of  it  yet  occupied,  its  corner-lots  at  fabulous 
prices.  That  corner  opposite  the  custom-house  they  hold  at  two 
thousand  dollars.  Others  a  little  outside  of  the  centre  you  can 
buy  as  low  as  fifty  dollars.  That  is  better  than  you  can  do  on  the 
North  Pacific,  where  on  a  boundless  prairie  they  will  stake  out  a 
lot  twenty-five  feet  by  a  hundred,  and  charge  you  hundreds  of  dol- 
lars for  the  bit. 

The  market-place  is  a  projecting  thatched  roof  over  the  side  of 
a  one-story  edifice.  On  mats  sit  brown  old  ladies  with  almost 
equally  old-looking  vegetables.  Here  are  oranges,  bananas,  black 
beans,  squash  seeds  boiled  in  molasses,  a  sort  of  candy,  and  other 
esculents,  to  me  unknown.  Among  them  is  one  called  euchre. 
Never  having  known  what  that  too-familiar  word  means  in  the  no- 
menclature of  the  States,  I  thought  I  would  find  out  its  meaning 
in  Yucatan,  so  I  invested  a  six-and-a-quarter-cent  bit  in  this  game 
of  chance.  I  received  a  piece  of  the  root— for  so  I  judged  it  to 
be— looking  like  a  cross  between  a  turnip  and  a  carrot.  It  was 
white,  of  various  shapes,  round,  square,  long.  My  piece  was  about 
as  large  round  as  a  child's  wrist,  and  as  long  as  its  hand.  I  tasted 
it,  and  was  satisfied  with  euchre  as  an  article  of  diet.  If  others,  on 
one  taste  of  their  sort,  would  as  quickly  discard  it,  they  might  safe- 
ly be  left  to  make  the  experiment.  But  even  my  friend,  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Murray,  can  not  effect  the  prohibition  of  that  appetite  in  that 
way.  It  is  likely  this  would  grow  with  tasting,  as  the  other  does, 
for  it  was  sweet  and  not  disagreeable,  being  like  the  turnip  and 
carrot  in  nature  as  well  as  in  looks.  If  it  could  replace  the  fatal 
fascination  of  its  synonym,  I  should  be  glad  to  see  it  introduced 
into  our  country. 

The  houses  of  Progresso  are  of  one  story,  of  mortar  or  thatch, 


MONTEZUMA   AND   CHOCOLATE.  29 

covered  with  a  high  roof  of  thatch.  This  high  roof  is  open  inside, 
and  makes  them  shady  and  cool.  The  sides  are  also  often  of 
thatch,  and  they  look  like  a  brown  dwarf  with  a  huge  brown  straw 
sombrero  pulled  over  his  eyes.  Some  of  those  built  of  mortar  have 
ornamental  squares  in  the  sides,  where  shells  are  carefully  set  in 
various  shapes  in  the  mortar,  and  which  make  a  pleasing  effect, 
the  diamonds  and  other  shapes  giving  the  walls  a  variety  that  is 
really  artistic.  Why  could  it  not  be  imitated  in  larger  buildings 
at  home?  One  house  had  the  word  "  Sepulcro  "  in  large  letters 
chalked  along  its  front.  "  What  does  that  mean  ?"  asks  one  of  the 
party.  The  occupant  was  sick  a  long  time,  and  the  boys  thought 
it  was  about  time  he  had  died,  so  they  chalked  that  word  along 
the  door  to  express  their  conviction  of  his  duty.  He  ought  to  be 
dead — dead  he  shall  be  called.     A  grave  joke,  that. 

Here  I  first  tasted  the  sort  of  chocolate  of  which  Montezuma 
was  so  fond,  and  which  he  took  so  thick  as  almost  to  make  it  an 
edible.  A  brown,  brawny  woman  made  us  a  cup  of  the  same  in 
a  bamboo  -  sided,  rush  -  roofed  cafe'.  It  was  worthy  Montezuma's 
praise  :  Parisian  chocolate  takes  the  second  place  hereafter,  and  a 
good  way  below  the  first.  It  is  prepared  in  milk,  and  is  a  thick, 
soft  liquid  that  melts  on  your  tongue  and  "goeth  down  sweetly, 
causing  the  lips  of  those  that  are  asleep  to  speak."  That  dame 
would  make  her  fortune  by  such  a  cafe  in  New  York.  But,  then, 
she  probably  wishes  for  no  fortune,  and  her  secret,  the  secret  of 
all  the  dames  of  the  country,  may  never  be  revealed  outside  the 
land  itself.  You  must  come  to  Mexico  to  know  how  "chocolatte" 
can  taste. 

The  fields  about  Progresso  have  chiefly  shrubs  of  the  cactus 
order.  Beautiful  flowers  of  purple,  yellow,  and  crimson  abound. 
Here  grows  wild  the  heliotrope,  the  fragrant  purple  flower  that  is 
scattered  so  generally  at  funerals.  The  sweet-pea  and  other  cul- 
tivated delights  of  the  Northern  hot-house  and  garden  are  blos- 
soming abundantly. 

The  cocoa-palm  throws  out  its  long  spines,  deep  green,  thrust 
straight  out  from  a  gray  trunk,  that  looks  as  if  wrapped  in  old 


3o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

clothes  against  the  cold.  This  gray  bark  is  a  striking  offset  to  the 
dark,  rich  leaves,  which  are  the  branches  themselves.  Where  these 
leaves  push  forth  from  the  trunk,  from  ten  to  fifty  feet  from  the 
ground,  a  cluster  of  green  balls,  of  various  sizes  and  ages,  are 
hanging.  This  green  rind  is  an  inch  thick.  Then  the  black  shell 
known  to  us  is  reached,  and  inside  of  that,  not  the  thick  white 
substance  we  find  on  opening  it,  but  a  thin  soft  layer,  or  third 
rind,  the  most  of  the  hollow  being  filled  with  milk.  Later  in  the 
season  the  milk  coagulates  to  meat,  and  the  cocoa-nut  of  com- 
merce is  completed.  It  is  cultivated  extensively  here,  both  for 
home  use  and  the  Northern  market. 

The  people  are  chiefly  Indians,  not  of  the  Aztec,  but  Toltec  va- 
riety. This  is  a  nation  hundreds  of  years  older  than  the  Aztecs,  and 
who  are  supposed  to  be  the  builders  of  the  famous  monuments  of 
Central  America,  and  to  have  been  driven  from  Mexico  southward 
about  a  thousand  years  ago.  They  are  of  the  usual  Indian  tint, 
but,  unlike  our  aborigines,  live  in  comfortable  houses,  are  engaged 
in  industrious  callings,  and  dress  in  a  comely  manner. 

Both  sexes  wear  white,  the  men  and  boys  having  often  one  leg 
of  their  trowsers  rolled  up,  for  what  purpose  we  could  not  guess, 
unless  it  be  for  the  more  cleanly  fording  of  the  brooklets  and  mud- 
lets  that  occur.  It  was  a  token  of  neatness,  if  that  was  the  reason, 
that  was  very  commendable. 

The  women  wear  a  skirt  of  white,  and  a  loose  white  waist  sepa- 
rate from  the  skirt,  and  hanging  sometimes  near  to  the  bottom  of 
the  under-garment.  This  over-skirt,  or  robe,  is  ornamented  with 
fringe  and  borders  worked  in  blue.  The  head-dress  is  a  shawl  or 
mantle  of  light  cotton  gauze,  of  blue  or  purple,  thrown  gracefully 
over  the  head  and  shoulders.  One  lady,  evidently  thinking  well 
of  herself  and  her  apparel,  had  a  ring  on  every  finger  of  each  hand, 
and  gold  ornaments  hanging  profusely  from  her  neck.  I  have  seen 
many  ladies  who,  if  they  distributed  the  rings  singly  on  each  finger, 
would  not  find  both  hands  sufficient  for  their  display.  This  light- 
brown  laughing  madam  had  her  limits  seemingly,  beyond  which 
she  would  not  go — eight  rings  and  no  more. 


A    COCOA-NUT  ORCHARD.  3I 

As  a  proof  of  the  industry  and  intelligence  of  these  natives,  let 
us  go  to  a  hacienda,  or  farm,  a  mile  out  of  town.  Though  it  is  a 
short  walk,  yet  having  ordered  a  fly  for  a  longer  ride,  we  employ  it 
on  this  excursion.  We  did  not  take  the  carriage  of  the  country, 
which  is  a  basket  on  two  wheels,  about  the  size  of  a  cot-bed,  which 
cot-bed  itself  lies  on  the  bottom  of  the  basket,  and  on  which  sit  the 
passengers.  A  wicker  covering  bends  over  about  two  -  thirds  of 
this  bed  ;  the  rest  is  open  to  sun  and  rain.  Three  mules  abreast 
make  this  fly  fly. 

Our  three  little  mules  drag  a  sort  of  covered  coach  on  high 
springs,  narrow  and  jolty.  They  run  under  the  whip  and  scream 
of  the  muleteer.  The  gate  of  the  hacienda  is  soon  reached.  A 
lazy  Indian  boy  opens  it.  We  rush  between  a  green  wall  of  co- 
coa-trees a  score  of  rods  to  a  thatched  -  built  house,  large,  well- 
floored,  high-roofed,  clean.  The  brown  lady  of  the  mansion  wel- 
comes us,  and  I  try  to  buy  a  hammock.  She  asks  three  dollars. 
I  have  no  gold,  and  she  despises  greenbacks,  whether  of  Wash- 
ington or  Havana.  So  the  bargain  fails.  The  same  thing  I  have 
since  seen  offered  in  Boston  for  less  money.  It  is  cheaper  some- 
times to  buy  your  foreign  curiosities  after  you  get  home. 

Her  boys  take  us  to  a  cocoa-nut  orchard,  pluck  off  the  nuts, 
split  them  with  a  sharp  cleaver,  and  pour  their  milk  into  a  glass. 
We  drink  in  honor  of  the  host.  An  old  man  runs  up  to  us,  with 
nothing  on  him  but  a  pair  of  white  pants,  a  cleaver  stuck  in  his 
girdle  behind,  and  a  straw  hat.  He  offs  hat  with  both  hands,  and 
bows  low  to  the  ground.  Had  Darwin  seen  him  he  would  have 
protested  that  he  was  the  man  primeval,  built  ages  before  the  En- 
glish Adam,  who  is  (to  Darwin)  the  height  of  attained,  if  not  attain- 
able, civilization.  His  face  looked  very  like  a  monkey's,  and  his 
posture  also.  Yet  this  ape  of  modern  false  science  was  a  gentle- 
man of  fortune,  and  industry,  and  sagacity,  who  had  subdued  five 
hundred  acres  of  this  wild  land,  and  made  himself  a  property  worth 
six  thousand  dollars  even  here,  many  times  that  in  the  States.  He 
raises  hemp  and  cocoa-nuts,  and  is  rich.  His  manners  were  gra- 
cious, and  when   he   found  he  could  not  talk  with  us,  he  bid  us 

3 


32  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

good-bye  politely,  and  hastened  away  as  fast  as  if  he  had  a  note  to 
pay,  and  only  five  minutes  more  left  to  pay  it  in,  and  no  money  to 
pay  it  with.  His  boys  remained,  and  waited  on  us.  One  of  our 
party  ottered  him  a  couple  of  cigars,  which  he  passed  over  to  a 
little  girl  of  his  tenant's,  being  too  much  in  a  hurry,  if  not  tQO  much 
of  a  gentleman,  to  smoke.  So  our  primitive  gorilla  disappears  in 
a  farmer  of  to-day.     So  will  all  scientific  humbugs  disappear. 

The  chief  business  of  this  place  is  the  raising  of  jenequen,  or 
hemp,  pronounced  heneken.  It  has  the  thick,  green,  sharp  leaf  of 
the  cactus.  A  large  traffic  has  sprung  up  in  it  at  this  port ;  not 
less  than  five  thousand  bales  are  exported  annually  to  New  York, 
or  two  million  pounds.  It  is  used  in  making  ropes,  and  has  a  grow- 
ing and  extensive  value.  It  is  worth  six  cents  a  pound  here,  and 
pays  about  ninety-five  per  cent,  on  its  cost  of  culture,  so  that  it  is 
a  very  valuable  article  of  commerce.  Its  finer  varieties  are  as  soft 
as  silk.  It  is  destined  to  be  more  and  more  a  source  of  union  be- 
tween Yucatan  and  the  United  States. 

We  roll  in  the  warm  surf  of  the  sea — a  Christmas  luxury  not 
enjoyed  at  Newport  and  Long  Branch,  but  which  was  delightful 
at  Progresso — and  dine  at  our  friend,  the  collector's. 

There  is  no  church  in  the  place,  and  this  chief  man,  though  a 
Romanist,  invites  me  to  establish  our  church  here.  The  chief  cor- 
ner of  the  grand  plaza  is  still  unoccupied,  and  the  Methodist  ca- 
thedral can  be  built  there.  It  shows  our  opportunities,  at  least, 
and  the  liberality  of  this  people,  though  perhaps  it  is  too  much  like 
the  sort  we  find  in  Western  towns,  where  they  will  give  any  body 
a  church  lot  in  order  to  make  the  other  lots  the  more  valuable. 
Yet  these  simple-hearted  natives  ought  to  have  a  Sunday-school 
and  Christian  teachings,  songs,  and  ordinances  ;  and  we  hope  some 
time  to  see  the  offer  accepted,  and  such  a  church  flourishing  at 
Progresso.  Some  Christian  body  will  undoubtedly  take  posses- 
sion of  the  field,  as  a  preliminary  to  the  city  near  by,  which  is  white 
unto  this  harvest.  Whoever  enters  into  this  inheritance  will  find  a 
pleasant  possession. 

Our  day's  delights  have  kept  us  beyond  the  hour  appointed  by 


RETURN  TO    THE  STEAMER.  33 

the  captain,  and  we  pull  for  the  steamer  with  fears  that  she  will 
pull  away  from  us  before  we  can  reach  her.  The  wind  is  contrary, 
the  rowers  weary,  the  night  deepens,  the  waves  roll,  the  lantern  on 
the  ship  becomes  a  star.  We  fire  pistol-shots  and  kindle  paper, 
and  they  send  up  colored  lights  and  fire  the  cannon.  Our  fires 
and  shots  they  do  not  see  or  hear.  Two  hours  of  fear  at  being 
deserted,  of  questionings  as  to  what  to  do  in  such  extremity,  of 
yet  greater  fears  that  the  big  black  waves  rolling  high  about  and 
beneath  us  will  roll  bigger  and  blacker  above  us,  of  tests  of  in- 
ward quality  of  courage  and  faith,  in  which  the  most  believing 
do  not  always  prove  the  most  courageous,  and  we  come  up  at 
last,  with  great  rejoicing,  to  the  huge  ship,  with  its  many  lights 
and  warm  cheer,  looking  like  the  palace  of  home  and  heaven, 
riding  upon  the  waters  of  death.  So  may  that  palace  yet  welcome 
us  all ! 

The  stay-aboard  company  are  thoroughly  alarmed  at  our  long 
absence.  But  when  the  fear  and  congratulations  at  our  safety  are 
over,  they  follow  the  example  of  the  Irish  mother  and  her  lost 
child,  so  affectingly  depicted  by  Hood,  whose  wailings  over  him 
lost  are  speedily  replaced  by  scoldings  at  him  found.  To  protect 
ourselves  against  their  retorts,  the  rhymist  of  the  party  prepared, 
on  the  rolling  deck,  a  defense,  which,  like  all  poetry,  has  permitted 
exaggerations  mingled  with  its  truth — a  sort  of  wine-and-water  fic- 
tion and  fact  that  can  be  easily  separated.  As  a  memento  of  a 
lazy  moment  it  may  be  worth  inserting  here.  If  one  seeks  to  sing 
it,  he  can  employ  the  tune  of  "  My  Maryland,"  which  is  the  old 
college  air  of  "  Lauriger." 

"  The  scoffer's  boat  is  off  thy  shore, 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan  ; 
Our  feet  are  on  the  collector's  floor, 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 
His  cocoa-milk  and  grapes  are  sweet, 
The  cooling  breezes  gently  greet, 
His  household  dames  are  mixed  and  neat, 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 


34 


OUR   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

"  The  dinners  that  we  find  in  thee, 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan, 
Surpass  all  else  in  luxury, 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 
There  're  monkey  tongues  and  lizard  steak, 
And  parrot's  brains  and  chocolate  ; 
What  cdrne  strange  and  delicate, 

In  Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 

"  The  jenequen  is  growing  fine 

In  Yucatan,  my  Yucatan, 
To  make  the  hemp  for  rope  and  twine, 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 
The  hacienda,  with  its  trees 
Of  cocoa  fluttering  in  the  breeze, 
Whose  fruit  is  tossed  us  by  monkeys, 

That's  Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 

"  There  Darwin  finds  his  primal  man, 

In  Yucatan,  my  Yucatan, 
Of  monkey  looks,  but  sharp  as  Yan', 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 
He  makes  his  bow  with  double  grace, 
His  pants  alone  are  in  their  place, 
His  gait  is  a  Chicago  pace, 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 

"  Rings  on  each  finger  and  each  toe, 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan ; 
The  ladies  ornament  them  so, 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 
White  robes  and  thin  to  ankles  go  ; 
Night  wrapped  in  day,  a  pleasant  show  j 
Such  are  the  dames  of  Progresso, 

In  Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 

"  Oh,  'tis  a  pleasant  land  to  see, 
Yucatan,  my  Yucatan, 
Lying  along  that  summer  sea, 
Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 


GOOD   WISHES.  35 

Long  will  its  memories  linger  sweet 
Of  flowers  and  shells,  and  mules  so  fleet, 
In  our  far-off  and  cold  retreat, 
Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 

"  May  churches,  schools,  and  enterprise, 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan, 
Gladden  thy  golden  sands  and  skies, 

Yucatan,  my  Yucatan. 
May  railroads,  built  by  Palmer  Co.:, 
Carry  great  crowds  to  Progresso, 
And  Parish  into  parishes  grow, 

In  Yucatan,  my  Yucatan  !" 


30  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


III. 

THE    SEA -PORT. 

Under  the  Cocoa-nut  Palm. — The  Plaza. — The  Cathedral. — No  Distinction  on 
account  of  Color  either  in  Worshiper  or  Worshiped. — The  Watering-place 
of  Cortez. — I  low  the  Palm  looks  and  grows. — Other  Trees  of  the  Tropics. — 
Home  Flowers. — July  Breakfast  in  January. — Per  Contra,  a  Norther. — Its 
Utility. — Harbor  and  Fort. — Size  and  Shape  of  the  City. — Its  Scavenger. — 
Its  Houses. — Street  Life. — The  Lord's  Day. — First  Protestant  Service.— The 
Railroad  Inauguration. 

My  friend,  Theodore  Cuyler,  has  written  many  a  racy  talk  for 
The  Evangelist,  with  the  heading  "Under  the  Catalpa."  He  is 
outdone  this  time — a  hard  thing  to  do.  He  can  not  write  "  Under 
the  Cocoa-nut  Palm  ;"  nor  can  he  write,  as  I  might  also,  "  Under 
the  Tulipan,"  whose  great  scarlet  blossoms  are  now  blushing  over 
my  head  ;  nor  "  Under  the  Chinese  Laurel,"  which  a  slight  change 
in  my  seat  would  enable  me  to  do;  nor  "Under  the  Australian 
Gum-tree,"  a  tall  elm-like  tree,  first  brought  here  by  Maximilian, 
and  which  rushes  up  to  forty  and  sixty  feet  in  a  few  years,  in  this 
hot  air  and  soil.  I  have  made  a  point  on  him,  though  it  took 
many  a  point  by  sea  and  land,  and  many  a  mile  from  point  to 
point,  to  gain  even  this  slight  advantage. 

I  am  sitting  on  a  green  slat-wood  and  iron  lounge,  such  as  are 
scattered  about  the  Public  Garden  of  Boston  and  the  Central 
Park  of  New  York,  though  they  are  not  much  occupied  there  after 
this  fashion  on  this  New-year's-day.  The  Plaza  de  la  Constitu- 
tion, the  only  plaza  of  Vera  Cruz,  is  where  this  bench  is  located,  a 
square  of  about  three  hundred  feet  to  a  side,  which  is  well  filled 
with  trees  and  shrubs  of  every  sort  of  tropical  luxuriance,  with 
flowers  of  many  hues  and  odors,  a  large  bronze  fountain  in  its  cen- 


THE    GOVERNOR'S  PALACE. 


37 


tre,  and  benches  girdling  its  circumference.     Carlotta's  gift  is  this, 
they  say,  to  the  city. 

The  sun  lies  hot  on  the  house-tops,  and  wherever  it  can  strike 
a  pavement.  The  general  costume  consists  of  a  shirt  and  pants  : 
the  shirt  white,  short,  plaited  all  around,  and  worn  often  by  the 


peasantry  on  pleasure-days  as  an  outer  garment — a  not  unseemly 
arrangement.  Every  body  is  in  gay  costume,  for  is  it  not  the  first 
clay  of  the  year  ?  And,  in  addition,  does  not  the  daily  morning 
paper,  named  El  Progresso,  on  the  ground,  probably,  that  it  never 


3$  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

progresses,  declare  that  it  is  an  extra  festival-day,  because  on  this 
day  occurred  the  circumcision  of  Saint  Odilon,  and  the  birth  of 
Saint  Euphrosyne  the  Virgin  ?  Who  these  are,  it  does  not  deign 
to  declare. 

But  that  sun  creeps  round  the  corner  of  the  church  on  this  seat, 
and  blazes  so  fiercely  that  I  must  fly  or  be  consumed.  Another 
cocoa-nut  palm  welcomes  me  ;  really  another  angle  of  the  great 
church  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 

That  church  has  just  concluded  its  service — a  service  without 
song,  or  preaching,  or  audible  prayer,  or  aught  else  but  genuflex- 
ions and  osculations,  and  mutterings  and  millinery.  Yet  it  was 
filled  with  women  and  children  dressed  in  their  best  attire,  and  in 
one  respect  was  ahead  of  any  church  I  have  ever  seen  in  America : 
all  classes  and  colors  meet  together.  On  the  same  bench  sits  the 
Beacon  Street  lady,  in  her  silks  and  laces,  and  the  poor  beggar  in 
her  blue  tunic,  with  her  mantle  carefully  brought  up  on  her  head 
in  the  church,  "  because  of  the  angels."  The  Indian,  Negro,  Span- 
iard, all  are  here,  often  rolled  together  in  one.  Not  the  least 
dressed  and  genteel  are  these  Indian  dames  of  high  degree. 
When  shall  our  better  type  of  faith  and  worship  equal  this  in  its 
one  grand  principle,  "  Ye  are  brethren  ?"  How  hideous  a  mock- 
ery must  a  white  and  a  colored  church  appear  to  the  Lord,  who 
is  Maker  and  Saviour  of  us  all  !  The  Romanist  is  putting  this 
fact  assiduously  before  the  mind  of  our  Southern  caste -bound 
brothers.  It  is  their  only  stronghold  ;  God  give  us  strength  to  sur- 
pass them  in  this  grace,  as  we  have  in  all  else.  Not  doing  thus, 
we  shall  find  our  excellent  ointment  sending  forth  an  offensive 
savor,  and  their  offensive  ointment  surpassing  ours  in  sweetness. 
Among  the  wax  virgins  of  this  sacristy  is  a  negress,  the  adaptation 
of  this  Church  to  its  votaries  being  thus  signally  marked. 

I  have  just  returned  from  an  excursion  to  Medillin,  some  twelve 
miles  into  the  country,  the  summer  watering-place  of  Vera  Cruz. 
It  is  winter  now,  and  out  of  season.  From  March  to  June  that 
Saratoga  reigns.  The  consul-general  of  Mexico,  Dr.  Skilton,  and 
the  consul  of  the  port,  Dr.  Trowbridge,  were  my  companions — two 


FRUITS  AND  FLOWERS.  39 

physicians  who  won  a  high  name  in  the  army,  and  deserve  and 
honor  the  stations  they  occupy.  The  air  was  soft  as  June,  and  our 
thin  clothes,  even  to  seersucker  and  linen,  were  all  that  we  needed, 
and  more.  Flowers  of  every  hue  and  fragrance  blossomed  along 
the  way. 

The  cocoa-nut  palm  abounded,  of  all  heights  and  ages.  The 
older  ones  had  a  smooth  bark,  made  of  its  own  dead  leaves,  crown- 
ed with  long,  bending  branches,  made  up  of  spines  like  ribs  going 
out  of  a  backbone.  It  begins  in  these  spines,  and  they  seem  to 
grow  together  as  new  ones  shoot  out,  so  that  the  trunk  is  itself  a 
leaf.  These  leaves  hang  dead  and  loose  in  their  upper  edges, 
ragged  and  gray,  but  bind  the  trunk  at  their  juncture.  Every  new 
burst  of  leaves  gives  a  new  cincture  and  a  new  raggedness.  The 
rains  wear  off  the  rags,  and  the  old  trees  stand  smooth  in  bark, 
with  the  rings  marked  upon  the  bark  of  these  successive  growths 
of  leaves.     They  are  of  every  height,  from  a  few  feet  to  a  hundred. 

You  see  on  the  ride  many  tall,  wide  -  branching  trees  of  the 
acacia  tribe,  with  a  light  gauze  leaf;  others  of  deepest  green,  and 
wonderful  for  shade,  which  are  not  unlike  the  maple  in  shape,  but 
are  denser  of  color  and  shade.  That  is  the  mango,  whose  apple 
even  the  foreigners  put  as  the  front  fruit  of  the  world,  and  which, 
therefore,  may  have  been  the  very  apple  that  tempted  Eve  and 
ruined  Adam. 

I  have  not  yet  followed  the  example  my  first  mother  and  father 
set  me,  if  this  be  the  fruit,  and  I  can  not  therefore  say  how  strong 
was  their  temptation  ;  for  though  the  leaf  be  green  exceedingly, 
the  time  of  the  mango  is  not  yet.  The  banyan,  orange,  banana, 
and  other  trees,  too  numerous  to  mention,  especially  when  you  do 
not  know  their  names,  throng  the  road  to  Medillin.  The  convol- 
vulus, or  morning-glory,  of  every  color  covers  the  roadside,  with 
its  running  vine  and  flowers.  And  there,  on  a  little  marsh,  raises 
its  sweet  and  lovely  cup,  the  water-lily,  blooming  here  just  as  de- 
liciously,  and  just  as  superior  to  all  rivals,  on  this  January  the  first, 
as  it  will  blossom  unrivaled  in  the  ponds  of  New  England  the  July 
following. 


40  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

A  stumpy  old  man  brings  a  bouquet  of  roses,  common  blush 
and  white,  for  which  we  pay  two  reals,  or  twenty-five  cents,  and 
that  is  as  much  again  as  he  expected.  In  this  we  count  thirty- 
eight  large  double  roses  in  blossom,  with  buds  many.  Had  that 
been  bought  for  a  New  York  table  on  this  New-year's-day,  it  would 
hue  cost  nearer  ten  dollars. 

The  country  people  are  coming  to  town  ;  for  it  is  somebody's 
feast-day,  and  the  railroad  opening  too.  This  modern  secular 
and  ancient  ecclesiastical  holiday,  joined  together,  is  too  much  for 
the  Aztec.  So  he  has  donned  his  spotless  white,  and  she  her  spot- 
less gray ;  for  the  female  human  bird,  like  the  feathered  biped,  is 
here  less  gorgeously  arrayed  than  its  male.  Off  they  tramp  to  the 
city.  His  shirt,  plaited  and  polished  before  and  behind,  depends 
over  like-lustrous  trowsers,  well  buttoned  on  the  side  with  tinkling 
bell-buttons  that  rattle,  if  they  do  not  ring,  to  the  music  of  his  go- 
ing. Some  are  on  horseback.  Two  trotting  near  the  track  get 
frightened  at  the  cars,  and  back  their  steeds  from  the  path.  A 
broad  ditch  is  behind  the  narrow  way,  and  one  of  the  horses 
plunges  therein  and  tips  his  clean  rider  over  into  the  black  mush. 
A  loud  laugh  is  all  the  consolation  he  gets  for  the  splash  and  its 
ruin  of  his  holiday  costume. 

Medillin  is  a  town  of  sheds,  roofed  with  thatch,  and  a  few  houses 
of  brick  or  wood,  with  broad  arcades  for  drinking,  dancing,  and 
gambling.  The  season  not  being  on,  none  of  these  were  going 
on,  except  a  breakfast  or  two,  which  were  excellent.  It  certainly- 
seemed  out  of  place  to  wander  round  that  open  garden,  full  of 
roses  and  oranges  and  all  manner  of  hot -house  plants,  on  this 
New-year's  morning,  and  to  sit  in  the  open  hall,  eating  as  delight- 
ful breakfast  as  my  "  International  Moral  Science  Association " 
brother  of  Ireland  ever  got  up  at  somebody  else's  expense.  But 
the  cool  hall  was  a  pleasant  refuge  from  the  heat,  and  we  found  the 
watering-place  refreshing  in  January.  A  river,  used  for  bathing, 
makes  it  the  favorite  resort  of  Vera  Cruzians.  Cortez  frequented 
it,  and  built  a  chapel  there.  He  seems  to  have  done  that  every- 
where ;  piety  and  impiety  being  nearly  equal  in  him. 


THE   "NORTHER."  4I 

As  we  go  to  the  cars,  I  measure  the  leaves  of  lilies  growing 
wild  along  the  track.  From  the  central  joint  to  the  tip,  I  could 
lay  my  arm  from  the  elbow  to  the  tip  of  the  finger — just  a  cubit, 
or  a  foot  and  a  half.  The  whole  leaf  was  over  two  feet  in  length, 
and  of  corresponding  breadth.  This  was  the  size  of  nearly  all  of 
them.  An  Indian  and  his  wife  were  gathering  oranges.  Huge 
fruit,  as  big  as  small  pumpkins,  hung  from  bushes  not  unlike  the 
quince.  Such  is  this  land;  are  you  not  home-sick  for  it?  If  so, 
let  me  make  you  contented  to  stay  where  you  are,  by  trying  to  de- 
scribe that  indescribable  horror  which  you  must  or  may  encounter 
to  get  here. 

I  had  heard  of  simoons  and  cyclones,  and  hurricanes  and  Hat- 
teras  storms,  but  till  I  touched  this  Gulf  steamer  I  had  never 
heard  of  a  "Norther."  I  began  to  hear  hints  about  its  possibil- 
ity, and  how,  when  it  raged,  no  ship  could  leave  Havana  or  land 
at  Vera  Cruz ;  that  it  occurred  about  every  four  or  five  days  this 
season  of  the  year,  and  that  every  seaman  disliked  and  even 
dreaded  it. 

Our  vessel  had  pushed  on  a  swift  and  even  keel  to  the  last  day 
but  one.  I  was  about  concluding  that  the  semi  -  qualmish  state 
would  not  develop  any  more  violent  stages,  and  was  even  getting 
ready  to  follow  Byron,  and  stroke  the  mane  of  this  wild  beast  of 
the  world,  that  rages  and  devours  from  shore  to  shore — even  as  a 
scared  child,  holding  firmly  to  the  parental  arms  and  legs,  may  rub 
its  tiny  hand  on  the  neck  of  the  huge  dog  that  has  frightened  it — 
when,  lo  !  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  after  leaving  Progresso,  I 
was  slung  violently  up  and  down,  clinging  in  desperation  to  the 
door  of  the  room,  which  was,  fortunately,  fastened  back  to  my 
berth.  The  ship  seemed  on  its  beam -ends.  Up  and  down  she 
rlung  herself  in  a  rage  of  fear  or  madness.  Up  and  down  we  fol- 
lowed, sick  and  scared. 

After  much  ground  and  lofty  tumbling,  the  berth  is  abandoned, 
with  great  reeling  and  sickness,  for  the  deck.  Perched  among  the 
shrouds  that  lash  the  base  of  the  mast,  or  reeling  along  the  side  of 
the  drunken  vessel,  I  enjoy  the  Norther.     The  sea  is  capped  with 


42  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

foam  ;  the  waves  leap  short  and  high  ;  the  boat  goes  down  these 
sharp  and  sudden  hills  of  water,  and  is  hurled  back  on  its  haunch- 
es by  trying  to  mount  the  hills  coming  up  on  the  other  side  of  the 
hollow.  How  she  staggers  and  falls  down,  and  picks  herself  up 
and  is  knocked  down  again,  and  blindly  rears  and  as  blindly  falls ! 
Her  freight  has  been  chiefly  left  at  Havana  and  Progresso,  and  so 
she  behaves  worse  than  she  might  have  otherwise  done.  I  had 
never  seen  so  crazy  a  creature  on  the  sea.  I  thought  the  long 
swells  of  the  Atlantic,  the  short  surges  of  the  Mediterranean,  and 
even  the  chopping  waves  of  the  English  Channel  and  the  Huron 
Bay  bad  enough,  but  this  Mexican  Norther  excelled  them  all.  Do 
you  wish  to  pay  that  toll  to  see  this  garden  ?  It  will  pay  ;  for  sea- 
sickness, like  toothache,  never  kills. 

There  was  not  much  done  that  day  except  to  lurch  with  the 
lurching  ship.  "  Now  we  go  down,  down,  downy,  and  now  we  go  up, 
up,  uppy."  Now  on  your  back,  and  now  on  your  face.  Still  we 
contrived  to  sit  it  through,  and  to  have  a  good  talk  on  religion  with 
a  Boston  gentleman,  who,  like  so  many  of  his  city,  had  no  religion 
to  talk  about,  being  not  Christian,  nor  even  Pagan,  not  so  much 
infidel,  as  faith-less:  not  anti-believing  as  non-believing.  Like  that 
ignorant  backwoodsman  who,  being  asked  if  he  loved  the  Lord  Je- 
sus, honestly  replies,  "  I've  nothing  agin  him."  Yet  he  that  is  not 
for  Him,  having  known  of  Him,  is  against  Him,  and  so  non-Chris- 
tianity is  anti-Christianity. 

How  much  is  Christian  faith  needed  in  that  Christian  town ! 
And  what  a  record  have  they  to  meet  who  have  taken  away  our 
Lord,  and  given  the  people  a  stolid  self-reliance,  or  more  stolid 
fatalistic  indifference  as  their  only  religion  !  But  our  lively  friend 
could  sing— what  Bostonian  can  not,  since  the  Jubilee? — and  he 
mingled  "  Stabat  Mater,"  "Coronation,"  and  camp -meeting  mel- 
odies in  a  pure  Yankee  olla-podrida.  May  this  song-gift  yet  lead 
the  singer  to  the  grace  it  springs  from  and  to ! 

Toward  night  the  winds  and  waves  abated  slightly,  and  after 
midnight  they  lulled  to  sleep.  But  long  after  the  Norther  had 
blown  itself  away,  the  waves  rolled  slow  and  steady  but  deep  and 


A    GOOD    WORD  FOR    THE   NORTHER.  43 

long,  as  if  they  themselves  were  tired  out,  and  the  steamer  swung 
to  and  fro  evenly  and  weariedly. 

As  the  storm  is  gone,  so -that  more  violent  one  of  sin  shall  blow 
over,  and  the  race  of  man,  like  a  convalescent  but  tired  child  in 
the  arms  of  its  mother,  shall  rock  itself  to  sleep  in  the  arms  of  its 
Saviour,  God.  Cowper's  words,  so  befitting  that  sick  and  weary 
ship-company,  are  not  an  unbefitting  prophecy.  I  was  comforted 
with  them  as  I  lay  in  that  tossing  berth : 

"Six  thousand  years  of  sorrow  have  well-nigh 
Fulfilled  their  tardy  and  disastrous  course 
Over  a  sinful  world;  and  what  remains 
Is  merely  as  the  working  of  a  sea 
Before  a  calm  that  rocks  itself  to  rest." 

Are  our  present  waves  the  passing  away  of  this  Norther  of  sin  ? 
Is  the  level  sea  of  universal  grace  and  goodness  appearing?  It  is ; 
but  perhaps  many  a  Norther  must  yet  rage  before  the  heavenly  and 
perpetual  calm  prevails. 

A  good  word  may  be  said  for  most  of  God's  creatures,  and 
the  Norther  has  its  bright  side.  But  for  it,  Vera  Cruz  could 
not  exist.  It  may  create  qualms  on  shipboard,  but  it  drives  away 
the  yellow  fever  on  shore.  Its  coming  concludes  that  pestilence, 
though  it  is  said  to  also  conclude  the  lives  of  all  prostrated  with 
the  disease  at  its  coming,  their  relaxed  system  succumbing  to  its 
over-tonical  force.  So  we  may  accept  the  lesser  evil  in  view  of  the 
greater  blessings  that  it  brings,  and  rejoice  that  Northers  rage  in 
the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 

The  reason  why  this  storm  prevents  a  landing  is  that  there  is 
no  real  harbor  here,  and  the  situation  of  the  port  is  such  that  the 
north  wind  drives  the  waves  straight  on  and  over  the  mole,  its 
only  dock,  which  is  a  few  hundred  feet  long.  The  waters  rise  and 
roll  over  this  wharf,  and  prevent  all  landing.  Indeed,  the  waves 
could  hardly  allow  a  boat  upon  them,  were  a  landing  possible,  so 
high  they  mount.  When  it  is  on,  communication  ceases,  and  visit- 
ors to  the  ship,  or  sailors  on  the  shore,  have  no  means  of  getting  to 


44  OCA'   NE XT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

their  own  place.  Yet  all  this  could  be  cured  by  a  few  score 
thousand  dollars.  The  castle  lies  two  miles,  perhaps,  from  the 
shore,  and  reefs  extend  a  third  of  the  way  toward  it  on  the  north- 
ern side.  A  breakwater  could  easily  be  built  over  the  rest  of  the 
way,  and  the  harbor  of  Vera  Cruz  laugh  at  the  peril  of  the  north 
wind,  and  enjoy  its  refreshment.  Some  time  the  government  will 
make  this' improvement.  Yet  "  manana"  (to-morrow),  they  would 
say  here  :  their  word  for  all  enterprises  and  duties. 

Our  Norther  has  subsided,  and  we  enter  the  sunny  bay,  on 
the  last  Saturday  morning  in  December,  as  warm  and  delicious  a 
morning  as  ever  broke  over  New  York  Bay  in  June,  as  George  L. 
Brown's  painting  of  that  city  superbly  represents.  The  walls  of  the 
city  of  the  True  Cross  break  on  the  eye — a  speck  of  superior  white- 
ness amidst  the  glittering  sand-dunes  that  inclose  it,  but  a  white- 
ness that  does  not  increase  as  you  approach.  Small  palms  scant- 
ily scatter  themselves  among  the  sand-hills,  and  thin  grass  and  a 
parched  vegetation,  though  far-away  hills  lift  a  solid  terrace  of 
green  to  your  fascinated  eyes,  and,  towering  over  all,  Orizaba  raises 
its  snow-capped  spear,  a  peak  of  unequaled  beauty.  All  the  zones 
are  around  and  before  you,  from  Greenland  to  Abyssinia. 

The  harbor  is  empty  of  shipping  ;  only  four  or  five  vessels  lie  on 
its  dangerous  sea.  The  famous  castle,  San  Juan  d'Ulloa,  is  a  large, 
round  fortress,  of  a  dingy  yellow.  A  castle  impregnable,  it  is  said, 
except  to  assault,  which  was  never  attacked  that  it  was  not  taken. 
Cortez  professed  to  expend  thirteen  millions  upon  it ;  and  Charles 
the  Fifth,  once  calling  for  his  glass,  and  looking  through  it,  west- 
ward, was  asked  what  he  was  looking  for.  "  San  Juan  d'Ulloa,"  he 
replied.  "  I  have  spent  so  much  on  it,  that  it  seems  to  me  I  ought 
to  see  it  standing  out  on  the  western  sky." 

We  anchor  off  the  costly  folly,  and  are  greeted  by  officials  and 
friends.  Boats  soon  put  us  on  the  mole,  and  we  are  in  the  sea-port 
of  the  United  States  of  Mexico. 

This  city  consists  of  sixty  acres,  be  they  more  or  less,  inclosed 
with  a  begrimed  wall,  from  ten  to  twenty  feet  in  height.  Boston 
Common  is  not  far  from  the  size  of  Vera  Cruz  ;  its  burned  district 


STREETS  AND   ARCADES   OF   VERA    CRUZ.  4? 

considerably  larger.  It  has  one  principal  street  running  back 
from  the  shore  a  single  block.  A  horse  railway  passes  down  this 
Cade  Centrale  once  a  half  hour  or  so,  and  for  a  real,  or  twelve  and 
a  half  cents,  takes  you  the  near  a  mile  that  street  extends.  But  it 
takes  no  one,  as  ail  who  have  money  have  no  desire  to  leave  the 
block  or  two  about  the  plaza;  and  all  who  are  obliged  to  go  from 
centre  to  circumference  have  no  money.  So  the  Spanish  Yankee 
fails  of  success  in  this  enterprise. 

One  street  runs  parallel  with  the  Centrale  the  entire  length  of 
the  city,  and  two  shorter  ones  fill  out  the  arc  that  the  rear  wall 
makes.  Eight  or  ten  cross  these  at  right  angles.  That  is  all  of  the 
True  Cross,  viewed  geographically.  Numerically,  it  has  fifteen  thou- 
sand inhabitants,  of  whom  over  one  thousand  are  foreigners,  and 
only  about  five  thousand  can  read  or  write.  The  Indian  popula- 
tion predominates  in  numbers,  and  the  Spanish  in  wealth  and  in- 
fluence, though  the  Mexican  is  a  conglomerate  of  both,  and  each  in 
its  separate  or  blended  state  is  without  social  degradation  or  dis- 
tinction. 

Its  chief  street  has  two  arcades,  with  little  markets  and  tables 
for  brandy  or  coffee  sippers.  It  has  a  score  or  two  of  stores,  some 
with  quaint  names,  such  as  "  El  Pobre  Diabolo  "  (The  Poor  Devil), 
over  a  neat  dry-goods  house,  whose  merchant  thereby  humbly  con- 
fesses he  does  not  make  over  "  one  per  shent  "  on  every  two.  An- 
other has  B.  B.  B.  as  his  initials  :  "  Bueno,  Bonito,  Barato  "  (good, 
pretty,  cheap). 

The  streets  are  narrow,  as  they  should  be  in  hot  countries.  Tiny 
rivulets  trickle  down  their  centres,  and  disinfectants  in  the  sickly 
season  nightly  cleanse  these  open  sewers. 

Another  and  a  more  important  source  of  its  cleanliness  is  the 
buzzard.  I  had  been  taught  to  detest  the  buzzard,  perhaps  be- 
cause it  was  black.  I  had  heard  how  unclean  a  thing  it  was,  and 
was  exceedingly  prejudiced  against  it.  But  I  find,  to  my  surprise, 
that  here  this  despised  and  detested  creature  is  the  sacred  bird, 
almost.  It  darkens  the  air  with  its  flocks,  roosts  on  the  roofs, 
towers,  steeple-tops,  everywhere.     A  fine  of  five  dollars  is  levied 

4 


4S  OUR   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

against  one  who  shoots  one  of  them.  It  is  the  most  privileged  in- 
dividual  of  the  town.  The  reason  why?  It  is  the  street -cleaner. 
It  picks  the  offal  from  gutter  or  sidewalk,  and  nothing  escapes  its 
hungry  maw.  Its  business  may  not  be  cleanly,  but  its  person  is. 
li  never  looks  soiled,  but  its  black  wings  shine,  and  its  beak  is  as 
white  as  "store  teeth."  It  looks  like  a  nice  house-maid  whose 
service  does  not  make  her  soiled.  It  is  a  large  bird,  looking  like 
the  turkey,  though  of  a  different  species,  and  of  a  broad,  swift  wing, 
that  sustains  it  in  long  flights.  It  appears  very  solemn,  the  priest 
of  the  air,  especially  when  it  sits  on  the  cross  of  the  churches,  one 
on  each  arm  frequently,  and  one  on  the  top.  Once  I  saw  two  thus 
sitting  on  the  top,  one  on  the  other,  as  quiet  and  churchly  as 
though  each  were  carved  in  stone.     Hood  says, 

"The  daw's  not  reckon'd  a  religious  bird, 
Because  it  keeps  a-cawing  from  the  steeple." 

But  the  buzzard  comes  nearer  that  desert,  and  by  its  solemn  air, 
clerical  garb,  and  sanitary  service,  may  claim  a  place  in,  as  well  as 
on,  the  sanctuary.  Perhaps  some  foes  of  the  cloth  might  say  its 
greediness  and  determination  to  have  the  last  mite,  if  alive,  was 
also  a  proof  of  this  relationship.  At  any  rate,  unlike  the  daw,  it 
is  the  protected  if  not  the  petted  bird  of  the  city,  and  helps  keep 
off  the  pestilence,  which  has  a  blacker  hue  and  more  horrible  na- 
ture than  the  worst  of  its  enemies  ever  attributed  to  it.  Honor  to 
this  faithful  black  servant  of  man,  as  to  those  featherless  bipeds  of 
like  hue,  that  are  more  worthy  of  our  praise  for  their  more  excel- 
lent service. 

The  houses  hug  the  narrow  sidewalks,  each  with  a  large  portal 
opening  into  a  roofless  court,  and  with  windows  scantily  piercing 
their  second  story.  They  very  rarely  go  higher.  Not  a  building 
inclosing  the  chief  plaza  is  above  this  height.  Hotel,  warehouse, 
and  governor's  residence  close  with  the  second  story.  The  third 
occasionally  appears  ;  but  fourth  and  fifth,  up  to  seventh  and  eighth, 
with  Mansard  roofs  —  two  stories  more  —  these  Paris  and  New 
York  luxuries  are  here  unknown.     Why?     Because  the  earth  gets 


THE  HORSE-CAR    THE    ONLY   VEHICLE.  49 

sea-sick  here.  Ex-President  Hill's  theory,  that  a  fire  is  fed  from 
below,  and  must  be  put  out  by  pouring  water  on  its  base,  and  not 
on  its  summit,  obtains  here  in  regard  to  earthquakes.  The  earth 
shakes  from  below,  and  would  topple  down  these  towers  on  the 
haughty  heads  that  dared  to  lift  them.  up.  So  the  city  well-nigh 
reaches  the  Sybarite  perfection  Edward  Everett  Hale  approves, 
and  is  hardly  ever  over  two  stories,  and  is  much  of  it  of  his  perfect 
perfection  of  one  story.  These  houses  are  of  mortar  or  stone,  all 
of  them,  and  very  broad  of  base  and  thick  of  wall.  They  hug  the 
earth  so  close  that  she  can  not  throw  them  off.  She  must  tip  her- 
self clean  over,  before  she  can  turn  these  houses  on  the  heads  of 
their  builders.  Those  builders'  heads  were  level,  and  their  works 
are  also. 

The  wind  flows  through  the  open  windows,  cool  as  the  midsum- 
mer sea-breeze — never  cooler.  The  streets  have  donkeys,  carrying 
water  in  kegs,  milk  in  bottles,  charcoal  (their  only  fuel)  in  bags, 
grasses  for  thatch,  and  other  burdens.  A  carriage  I  have  not  yet 
seen.  One  is  said  to  exist  here,  but  it  is  not  visible  to  the  naked 
eye.  A  few  horses  are  used,  chiefly  by  the  haciendados,  or  farmers, 
riding  into  town.  Even  the  ladies  turn  out  on  foot  to  the  grand 
reception  to  the  President  on  the  opening  of  the  railway  to  the 
capital.  The  horse-car  is  the  only  vehicle,  and  that  is  useless. 
The  city  is  a  Venice,  but  for  its  mules  and  asses. 

The  fountain  at  the  head  of  Calle'  Centrale  is  a  favorite  resort 
for  these  few  beasts,  and  for  many  water-carriers.  There  is  abun- 
dance of  water ;  and  nowhere  in  this  country,  or  any  country,  are 
there  cleaner  streets  or  superior  baths.  Yet  buzzard  and  bath, 
free  fountain  and  washed  street,  do  not  keep  off  the  yellow  fever. 
The  walls,  some  think,  cause  it,  as  they  shut  out  the  winds — the 
only  thing  they  do  shut  out,  every  foe  easily  subduing  them. 
They  should  be  leveled,  if  they  kill  thus  those  they  pretend  to  pro- 
tect. 

The  business  of  the  city  is  quite  large.  Some  houses  do  a  mill- 
ion and  a  half  a  year  ;  for  here  come  about  all  the  goods  of  Europe 
and  America  that  enter  Mexico.     Put  the  houses  that  get  the  trade 


5° 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


FOUNTAIN    AT    VERA    CRUZ. 


are  foreign,  and  chiefly  German,  so  lhat  the  people  of  the  country 
are  still  poor,  poorer,  poorest. 

The  Lord's  Day  is  an  unknown  institution  in  Vera  Cruz.  The 
Spaniards  have  given  it  the  right  name,  properly  distinguishing 
between  the  Sabbath,  which  they  give  to  Saturday  (Sabbato),  and 
the  Lord's  Day  (Domingo).  We  could  follow  their  example.  It 
would  save  much  debate,  and  clarify  and  steady  many  a  con- 
science, if  we  could  see  the  Lord's  Day  in  our  nomenclature.  We 
should  then  perceive  its  sacred  delight  and  obligation.  Yet  if  it 
turned  out  with  us  as  with  these,  the  name  had  better  be  left  un- 
changed. Stat  nominis  sacri  umbra  ;  and  only  that  shadow  stands. 
All  else  is  gone.  The  shops  are  open,  the  workmen  busy.  The 
church  is  attended  once,  as  in  the  mummeries  this  morning.  Then 
the  circus  came  riding  down  the  street ;  the  clown  and  two  pretty 


A    VISIT  TO    THE   CEMETERY.  5, 

boys  ahead,  preparatory  to  performing  outside  the  walls.  It  was 
the  first  band  of  music  I  had  heard  on  Sunday  since  that  which 
awoke  me  in  Detroit  last  summer.  How  sad  and  striking  the  re- 
semblance !  Shall  our  German  infidelity  and  mis-education  make 
our  land  like  Mexico  ?  Or  shall  a  holy  faith  and  a  holy  life 
make  this  land  like  the  New  England  of  our  fathers  ?  As  Mr. 
Lincoln  said,  "Our  nation  must  be  all  slave  or  all  free  ;"  and  as 
One  infinitely  greater  said,  "A  house  divided  against  itself  can  not 
stand  ;"  so  America,  North  and  South,  the  United  States  and 
Mexico,  must  be  all  Christian  in  its  Sabbath  sanctity,  or  all  dia- 
bolic. 

I  walked  out  in  the  afternoon  to  the  cemetery,  feeling  that  the 
best  church  and  congregation  were  to  be  found  there.  The  way 
led  over  the  alameda,  or  a  short  bridge  across  a  tiny  stream, 
which  is  lined  with  young  cocoa-nut  palms,  and  stone  seats  for 
loungers.  Here  Cortez  once  built  a  bridge  ten  feet  or  so  long, 
for  which  he  charged  the  government  three  millions  of  dollars, 
making  even  Tweed  lower  his  haughty  front  before  this  Castilian 
grandeur  of  thieving.  The  Church  of  Christ  stood  a  little  beyond, 
with  huts  of  the  poor  near  it — a  church  where  funeral  services  are 
mostly  performed.  A  poor  old  man  was  kneeling  on  a  bench  near 
the  door,  with  arms  outspread,  and  agonized  face,  muttering  ear- 
nestly. Oh  that  he  could  have  been  spoken  to,  so  that  he  might 
have  been  taught  the  way  of  life  more  perfectly,  and  might  have 
gone  down  to  his  house  justified  and  rejoicing  in  the  Lord  Jesus, 
to  whom  not  one  of  his  muttered  prayers  was  addressed  ! 

The  Street  of  Christ  leads  out  half  a  mile  to  the  Campo  Santo. 
Well-named  is  that  street,  if  lowliest  people  are  nearest  him,  and  if 
the  grave  is  his  triumphant  goal. 

The  walls  of  the  grave  yard  are  high  and  deep.  Tall  obelisks 
stand  at  either  corner.  The  dead  sleep  not  in  the  open  area, 
which  is  unoccupied,  but  in  the  walls.  Tablets  cover  the  recess 
that  incloses  the  coffin,  and  words  of  tenderness  rather  than  of  faith 
bedew  the  marble.  Not  the  highest  faith.  No  such  beautiful 
words  as  are  found  on  the  monuments  of  the  saintlv  dead  of  Prot- 


52  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

estant  climes  shine  forth  here.  Northampton  has  no  rival  here, 
that  choicest  of  grave-yards  in  its  simplicity  of  elegance  and  rich- 
ness of  Scriptural  and  Christian  quotation.  Mount  Auburn  is  sur- 
passed, however.  I  heard  the  Misses  Warner  once  say  they  had 
found  scarcely  any  motto  of  Scriptural  faith  and  hope  in  that  cem- 
etery. It  is  as  stony  in  its  faith  as  in  the  hewn  and  polished  walls 
that  engirt  each  tiny  lot.  It  has  marble  dogs,  and  granite  sphinxes, 
and  bass-relief  expressmen,  wreathed  pillars,  and  statues  of  men  of 
renown,  but  rare  is  a  monument  or  a  line  of  faith.  It  will  strike 
others  thus.  Edwards,  and  Fisk,  and  Wayland  ought  to  stand  in 
marble  among  its  statues,  and  Christianity  speak  from  its  faithless, 
glittering  graves.  Let  those  whose  believing  dead  are  buried  there 
make  them  preach  their  faith  from  their  sepulchres. 

Yet  in  the  Campo  Santo  itself  I  found  food  for  meditation,  if  not 
in  its  inscriptions.  I  gathered  its  flowers,  growing  wild  and  beau- 
tiful over  its  area,  and  returned  as  from  a  Sabbath-day's  journey, 
strengthened  in  the  Gospel  truth  and  work. 

That  evening,  through  the  kindness  of  the  American  consul,  a 
congregation  of  nearly  thirty  gathered  in  his  rooms,  and  held  a 
Christian  service.  "  Rock  of  Ages  "  and  "  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul," 
were  sung,  and  the  word  spoken  from  "  To  you  that  believe,  he  is 
precious."  It  was  the  first  service  the  Holy  Catholic  (not  Roman) 
Church  ever  held  in  that  city.  It  was  good  to  be  there,  as  many 
felt.  We  found  young  men  at  work  on  the  railroad  who  were 
members  of  the  Baptist  Church.  Those  who  were,  in  order  or 
education,  Presbyterians,  Methodists,  and  Episcopalians,  were  also 
present.  It  seemed  as  if  the  day-star  was  about  to  arise  over  this 
long-darkened  soil.  If  schools  were  established  here  by  Christian 
teachers,  and  a  service  held  regularly  in  English,  the  nucleus  of  a 
church  would  be  organized,  and  the  work  soon  be  extended  to  the 
native  population.  This  first  Christian  service  has  not  proved  the 
last.  Already  the  Presbyterians  have  a  flourishing  mission.  Oth- 
ers will  doubtless  follow. 

The  city  is  putting  on  its  best  bib  -  and  -  tucker,  for  to-morrow 
President  Lerdo  de  Tejada  is  to  arrive,  and  great  is  to  be  the  re- 


NON-ARRIVAL    OF  THE  PRESIDENT.  53 

joicing.  The  government  residences  are  being  tastefully  arrayed, 
and  coats  of  white,  yellow,  and  blue  wash  are  spread  over  all  the 
buidings  surrounding  the  square.  I  never  knew  before  how  easily 
and  cheaply  one  can  renew  the  face  of  a  soiled  wall.  That  cathe- 
dral looks  as  if  built  yesterday.  True,  if  it  should  rain  to-night, 
it  would  be  badly  streaked,  but  it  can  not  rain,  for 

"To-morrow  will  be  the  happiest  day  of  all  the  glad  New-year  ; 
To-morrow  will  be,  of  all  the  year,  the  maddest,  merriest  day  ;" 
For  Vera  Cruz  is  joined  to  Mexico,  and  Lerdo  comes  this  way. 

This  last  line  is  not  in  Tennyson. 

To-morrow  came,  but  not  the  President.  Every  body  dressed 
himself  in  his  best :  the  streets  were  trimmed  with  lanterns  ;  a  green 
pavilion  was  arranged  at  the  station  ;  but  he  came  not.  Announced 
at  ten,  re-announced  at  five,  the  soldiers  marched  down  the  streets, 
all  colors,  officers  and  privates,  and  all  mixed  together,  just  as  they 
ought  to  be  in  the  United  States.  The  people  fill  the  balconies, 
house-tops,  and  walls.  The  boys  jeer,  and  hoot,  and  whistle,  as  if 
they  were  Yankees.     Still  he  comes  not. 

Somebody  drops  a  real  in  the  passage-way,  kept  open  for  him  by 
the  soldiers,  and  a  bit  of  a  black  boy,  very  pretty  and  very  prettily 
dressed,  is  pushed  out  for  it  by  older  boys,  white  and  olive,  who 
dare  not  risk  the  attempt  themselves.  A  soldier  holds  him  back. 
His  mother,  a  bright,  comely  lady,  stands  behind  him,  watching 
him  with  mingled  fear  and  admiration.  She  is  afraid  those  olive- 
colored  gamins,  of  fourteen  years  or  thereabouts,  full  of  roguery 
and  rascality,  will  burn  her  boy's  fingers  in  pulling  that  most  de- 
sirable silver  chestnut  out  of  the  martial  fire. 

While  all,  officers,  soldiers,  lads,  and  loungers,  are  intent  on  that 
shining  mark,  a  bright  boy,  dirty  and  brown,  in  the  employ  of  the 
street  lamp-lighters,  comes  down  the  path  to  help  locate  some  tem- 
porary lamp-posts,  sees  the  real,  catches  it,  and  is  off,  amidst  the 
lauerh  of  the  crowd.  So  the  successful  man  is  often  the  last  on  the 
field  of  conflict. 

It  grows  dark,  and  we  give  it  up,  and  so  do  many  others.     At 


54 


OUR   NEXT-DOOR   NEIGHBOR. 


eight  he  comes,  but  nobody  sees  him,  and  Vera  Cruz  has  spent  a 
day  in  waiting,  and  spent  it  in  vain.  The  sound  of  the  vesper  bells 
Moats  sadly  into  my  ears,  as  I  write  close  under  the  towers  of  the 
Cortez  Cathedral.  How  long  before  more  Christian  bells  shall 
sweetly  summon  more  Christian  disciples  to  a  more  Christian 
worship  ?     How  long  ? 

The  opening  for  Christian  work  is  not  surpassed  by  that  of  any 
city.  It  should  be  taken  possession  of  by  the  true  Church  of  the 
True  Cross.  The  foreign  element  alone  would  make  a  large  con- 
gregation. They  can  all  understand  English.  The  natives  are 
horribly  neglected,  and  would  respond  to  earnest  missionary  effort. 
It  is  the  sea-port  of  the  country,  and  many  sailors  visit  it.  The 
danger  from  yellow  fever  is  not  great.  Gentlemen  who  had  re- 
sided there  fifteen  years  laughed  at  the  fear  of  strangers.  It  is 
certainly  no  greater  for  ministers  than  for  merchants.  It  is  a 
good  centre  of  influence  and  departure.  It  should  be  speedily  oc- 
cupied. Let  Cortez's  dream  be  fully  answered,  and  Vera  Cruz 
preach  and  practice  the  perfect  gospel  of  Christ  crucified. 


DANGERS  OF  STAGING. 


55 


IV. 

THE   HOT  LANDS.    • 

From  Idleness  to  Peril. — Solitud. — Chiquihuiti. — Tropical  Forests. — The  Falls 
of  Atoyac. — Wild  Beasts  non  sunt. — Cordova  and  its  Oranges. — Mount  Ori- 
zaba.— Fortin. 

Vera  Cruz  soon  wearies.  Even  the  generous  hospitality  of  our 
consul,  whose  table  and  couch  have  been  mine  for  days,  could  not 
make  it  lovely  long.  The  mountains  draw  like  the  Loadstone 
Mountain  of  the  "Arabian  Nights."  The  consul-general  comes 
from  the  capital,  and  by  due  persuasion  is  enticed  not  to  wait  for 
the  president's  return,  but  to  climb  back  after  the  old  fashion, 
the  stage-coach  and  the  robber  ;  for  though  the  railroad  is  finished, 
that  does  not  insure  one  a  ride  over  it.  Until  the  president  re- 
turns over  it,  no  one  can,  except  he  gets  passage  in  a  dirt-car,  and 
takes  the  mountain  morning  coldness,  without  shelter,  and  almost 
without  a  seat.  How  long  we  may  have  to  wait  for  his  return, 
quien  sabel — (who  knows?) — the  universal  answer  here  to  all  in- 
quiries, as  manana  is  to  all  orders.  So  we  get  as  far  as  is  allowed 
us  on  the  railway,  and  then  take  to  the  stage. 

There  are  several  reasons  prompting  us  to  this  course.  The 
stage  is  a  vanishing  institution.  A  week  or  two  hence  there  will 
be  no  staging  between  the  sea-port  and  the  capital.  We  must  in- 
dulge it  now  or  never.  Then  we  are  told  it  is  exceedingly  dan- 
gerous. Robbers  abound,  and  they  will  not  fail  to  lose  their  last 
opportunity  to  black-mail  the  coach.  So  it  will  give  the  romance 
of  peril  essential  to  a  first-class  excitement.  It  is  also  a  horrible 
road,  and  men  affirm  that  they  would  endure  any  torment  they  or 
their  friends  could  be  subject  to,  especially  the  latter,  rather  than 
make  the  trip  again — and  then  go  and  make  it.     Why  not  we? 


5 6  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

It  has,  too,  the  cumbres,  or  mountain  precipices,  so  steep  that 
we  are  led  to  imagine  the  stage  will  tumble  off  by  sheer  pull  of 
gravitation  and  centre  of  motion  ;  the  passengers  rolling  down, 
back  first,  faster  by  much  than  they  rolled  up.  The  peril  of  those 
"  who  gather  samphire,  dreadful  trade,"  must  be  encountered,  or 
Mexico  is  not  truly  done. 

And,  lastly,  the  ride  all  night  in  a  crowded  coach  full  of  garlic 
and  tobacco  and  pulqui,  and  all  abominable  stenches,  is  set  forth 
to  frighten  the  novice  from  the  attempt.  But  it  only  whets  his 
appetite.     The  water  feeds  the  flame,  which  has  got  so  hot. 

"  The  more  thou  dam'st  it  up  the  more  it  burns." 

The  ride  in  a  coach  full  of  dirty  and  offensive  natives,  over  horri- 
ble roads,  up  precipices  that  incline  the  other  way,  they  are  so 
steep,  among  robbers,  all  night  long — it  shall  be  taken,  and  it  is. 
Any  thing  to  get  out  of  Vera  Cruz.  That  orange  is  sucked  thrice 
dry. 

My  companion  attends  the  governor's  soiree  in  honor  of  the 
president  until  two  of  the  morning,  and  I  turn  him  out  of  bed  at 
three  to  take  the  unwelcome  trip.  We  start  at  about  four,  sleepily 
and  snugly  tucked  away  in  the  luxurious  cushions  of  an  English 
rail-carriage.  For  night-riding,  or  any  other,  this  sort  is  superior 
to  the  low-backed  seats  of  the  American  car,  though  inferior  to  our 
sleeping-coaches.  A  nice  nap,  and  the  day  wakes  up,  and  so  do 
we.  The  landscape  stands  forth  in  its  summer  warmth  of  color. 
We  are  out  on  the  Tierras  Calientes,  or  Hot  Lands.  Thev  are  mod- 
erately  level,  seemingly  thin  of  soil,  but  probably  more  dry  than 
thin.  The  dog-tree  abounds,  and  is  in  full  blossom.  Its  white 
flowers  look  lovely,  and  make  one  fancy  that  something  like  peach- 
trees  are  growing  wild  over  all  the  country.  Solitud,  some  twen- 
ty-five miles  out,  is  a  station  where  coffee,  cakes,  bananas,  and  or- 
anges are  disposed  of  to  the  half-sleepy  passengers.  It  was  at  this 
place  that  the  French,  English,  and  Spanish  ambassadors  held 
the  convention  which  resulted  in  the  invasion  of  Mexico  by  Maxi- 
milian.   They  made  but  little,  in  pocket  or  fame,  by  that  attempt  to 


TROPICAL    VERDURE.  57 

resist  the  Americanizing  of  America.  It  will  be  the  last  effort  put 
forth  by  Europe  for  the  colonizing  of  this  continent.  From  Isabel- 
la to  Victoria,  for  nearly  four  hundred  years,  the  attempt  has  been 
kept  up.  The  seed  is  well  sown.  Its  future  growth  must  be  from 
our  own  soil.  The  crowned  heads  must  lay  their  crowns  at  the  feet 
of  this  crownless  one,  on  whose  head  are  many  crowns.  The  land 
lies  idle  and  desolate  for  fifty  miles.  It  is  undoubtedly  susceptible 
of  culture,  for  rich  tropical  trees,  with  their  heavy  foliage,  are  not 
infrequent,  and  the  open  pastures  are  fit  for  grazing,  and  occasion- 
ally feed  a  few  cattle.  But  the  insecurity  of  property  blights  all  the 
land.  You  can  hardly  cultivate  bananas  close  to  your  door  with- 
out fear  of  losing  your  crop  through  the  wild  marauders  of  the 
region.  Life  is  of  no  consequence  to  them,  compared  with  a  few 
oranges  or  cocoa-nuts,  and  so  the  region  is  almost  without  inhab- 
itant. 

At  the  distance  of  about  fifty  miles  the  mountains  draw  near, 
the  first  terrace  above  the  plains  of  the  sea. 

Chiquihuiti  (pronounced  Chee-kee-whee-tee)  rises  along  the  land- 
scape, cutting  the  edge  of  the  lowlands  as  sharply  as  a  house-front 
cuts  the  land  out  of  which  it  arises.  This  is  the  beginning  of  the 
table-lands  of  Mexico,  and  of  the  snow-capped  volcanoes  of  Popo- 
catepetl and  Orizaba.  We  wind  up  into  it,  and  are  astonished  by 
the  profusion  of  its  tropical  verdure.  The  scanty  gleanings  of 
the  lowlands  had  not  prepared  me  for  this  superabundance.  The 
gorges  are  deep,  the  heights  lofty,  and  from  lowest  depth  to  top- 
most height  there  is  a  flood  of  green.  Such  trees  and  leaves  I 
had  not  imagined  possibre  in  midsummer,  and  this  was  midwin- 
ter. The  trees  were  compact  together,  some  of  familiar  forms, 
such  as  oak  and  birch,  but  of  unfamiliar  richness.  Others  among 
them  were  new  members  of  the  family.  The  acacia-tree  was  the 
largest  and  the  most  prolific  in  species,  and  it  spread  itself  in  huge 
branches,  and  towered  above  its  fellows  as  by  natural  mastery. 
Yet  it  is  light  of  substance,  and  some  of  these  iron-like  woods  un- 
doubtedly and  justly  despise  their  vain  brother.  Many  sorts  of 
these  hard  woods  are  here,  awaiting  the  horrid  steam  saw-mill  that 


58  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

shall  eat  them  all  up,  and  ship  them  to  New  York,  and  make  this 
green,  grand  wilderness  a  desolation. 

How  sorry  I  am  to  be  compelled  to  think  that  some  Yankee 
speculator  in  lumber  from  Bangor  to  Brainerd  will  read  these  lines, 
and  be  up  and  off  in  the  next  steamer  for  Vera  Cruz  and  the  splen- 
did woods  of  Chiquihuiti !  Cortez  did  not  sigh  more  for  Mexican 
silver  than  these  lumbermen  will  for  these  mahoganies,  and  rose- 
woods, and  other  equally  polishable  delights.  Black-walnut  will 
be  of  no  account  when  the  Mexican  lumber  reaches  the  Northern 
market.  Give  us  a  good  fill,  dear  ancient  forests,  of  your  green  de- 
lights, for  the  Yankee  wood-sawyer  is  coming,  and  you  will  soon  be 
no  more. 

The  roadside  is  lined  with  immense  palms,  whose  leaves  are 
each  themselves  almost  a  covering  for  the  body,  while  the  castor- 
oil-tree  spreads  its  broad  wing  along  the  way,  hated  of  all  youth, 
loved  of  not  all  doctors. 

Convolvuli  of  every  hue  throw  their  vines  and  flowers  over  these 
palms  and  taller  trees.  Our  old  morning-glories  were  growing 
wild,  and  make  our  path  a  perpetual  "pleached  bower"  of  beau- 
ty. The  orchids  hang  on  the  taller  trees,  or  sit  in  nests  in  the 
crotch,  parasitic  plants  of  every  color  making  the  tree  into  nose- 
gays. They  are  a  fungus,  and  seem  to  prefer  decayed  trees  ;  per- 
haps themselves  decay  them.  Some  that  are  stripped  of  leaf  and 
bark  glow  like  a  June  rose-bed  in  the  radiance  of  these  curious 
plants.  There  are  hundreds  of  varieties,  and  have  attracted  of 
late  much  attention  from  botanists,  and  have  even  got  into  litera- 
ture. 

About  ten  miles  up,  the  road  winds  round  a  gorge  that  sinks 
hundreds  of  feet  below,  and  whose  upper  side  comes  together  in 
the  Falls  of  Atoyac. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  water-falls  I  have  ever  seen  ; 
I  might  say  the  most  beautiful.  It  is  not  stripped  of  its  trees,  as 
is  Minnehaha,  who  sits  shivering  in  her  nakedness,  as  unhappy  as 
the  Greek  Slave.  Nor  does  it  come,  like  that,  from  a  level  land- 
scape.    The   hills   rise   all   around    it  a  thousand  feet  and   more. 


THE   FALLS   OF  A  TOY  AC. 


59 


The  sides  of  these  hills  from  base  to  peak  are  densely  covered 
with  trees,  whose  leaves  are  almost  a  solid  mass  of  green.  The 
white  water  leaps  from  this  green  centre  a  hundred  or  two  feet, 
into  a  curling,  foaming  river,  and  into  a  darkling  mirror  of  a  pool. 
The  whole  scene  is  embraced  in  one  small  circumference,  and  you 
seem  to  pause  trembling  on  the  bridge  that  spans  a  side  of  the 
ravine,  before  you  plunge  into  a  tunnel,  hanging  hundreds  of  feet 


OLD    BRIDGE   OF    ATOYAC. 


above  the  lovely  spectacle,  with  an  admiration  that  is  without  par- 
allel in  any  small  fragment  of  American  scenery.  May  the  Mexi- 
can Government  preserve  the  balls  of  Atoyac  and  their  enchanting- 
surroundings  from  the  knife  and  the  factory  of  the  spoiler. 

Are  there  monkeys  or  wilder  beasts  in  these  woods,  or  parrots,  or 
birds  of  paradise  ?  Of  course  they  will  all  tell  you  that  they  abound. 
I3ut  when  you  ask  one  if  he  ever  saw  any,  he  shrugs  his  shoulders. 


60  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

One  gentleman  says  :  "  I  ate  armadillo  steaks  in  a  cabin  on  top  of 
that  mountain  overhanging  the  Falls  of  Atoyac  ;"  but  he  did  not 
kill  the  choice  lizard,  and  so  I  receive  his  assertion  with  some  in- 
credulity. Every  body  says  monkeys  are  here,  but  nobody  says  he 
has  seen  them.  They  say  that  they  have  retreated  away  from  the 
railroad,  a  sad  reflection  on  Darwin's  theory ;  for  should  they  not 
accept  the  higher  life  to  which  their  posterity  have  attained,  and 
be<rin  themselves  to  build  railroads,  and  cut  down  timber,  and 
speculate  in  corner  lots,  and  eat  armadillo  ? 

The  parrot  is  here,  but  does  not  flash  his  plumage  among  the 
trees.  Only  on  the  perch  of  the  ranchos  do  we  see  his  beauty  and 
hear  his  ugliness.  The  cougar  is  reported  present ;  one  gentleman, 
and  he  a  man  of  veracity,  declares  he  saw  a  young  tiger,  or  old 
cat  of  this  species,  as  he  was  resting  his  stage  legs  by  a  tramp  up 
another  spur  of  these  mountains.  But  I  think  the  real  sight  was 
when  he  sat  at  meat  that  day,  and  beheld  on  the  table  a  roasted 
creature,  with  a  great  gray-yellow  eye  staring  at  him,  and  saying, 
"  Come  eat  me,  if  you  dare."  Asking  the  waiter  what  it  might  be, 
he  was  answered,  "El gato  del  monte"  (the  cat  of  the  mountain). 
Like  they  of  the  Rimini  story,  who  read  no  more  that  day,  he  ate 
no  more  that  day.  That  cat  was  a  reality.  Whether  the  cougar 
was  or  no,  you  must  judge.      Quicn  sabel  and  a  shrug  is  all  I  say. 

A  run  of  a  few  miles  through  verdant  fields,  by  coffee-haciendas 
and  banana- groves  and  orange -orchards  and  tobacco- fields,  and 
Cordova  is  reached. 

This  ancient  city  of  Cortez  lies  in  an  open  plain,  surrounded  by 
mountains.  The  railroad  leaves  it  a  little  to  the  right,  and  in  a 
deeper  vale,  so  that  only  its  dirty  church  towers  and  domes  are 
visible  to  the  eye.  It  is  a  decayed  town,  but  under  the  stimulus 
of  the  railroad  may  revive,  especially  if  pure  Christianity  can  come 
in  here  to  energize  and  educate  its  people.  Pure  Christianity 
has  come  in.  The  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  has  already  lay 
preaching  in  this  city,  and  a  society  well  gathered.  The  redemp- 
tion of  this  fine  old  Spanish  town  is  begun.  Let  it  go  on  to  a  mil- 
lennial completeness. 


THE  BEST  OF  ORANGES.  61 

The  fruit-sellers  at  the  de'pot  give  us  six  oranges  for  three  cents, 
and  as  many  bananas  for  the  same  money.  A  picayune  goes  a 
good  way.  The  oranges  are  very  delicious.  Havana  and  even 
Joppa  are  dry  to  these  juicy  Cordovas.  They  bleed  at  every  vein. 
It  is  almost  impossible  to  prevent  their  flowing  over  your  lips  on 
to  your  garments,  like  Aarort's  oil.  Could  they  be  got  into  our 
Northern   market,  they  would  drive  the  mean  little  sour  Messina 


ORANGE  GROVE,  CuRDOVA. 

and  the  thick-meshed  fibrous  Havana  from  the  fruit-stalls.  And 
why  not  ?  Vera  Cruz  and  Cordova  are  nearer  New  York  by  twen- 
ty days  than  Messina,  and  not  two  days  farther  off  than  Havana. 
The  fruit-boats  that  go  to  the  Mediterranean  of  the  Eastern  Con- 
tinent should  come  to  the  Mediterranean  of  the  Western.  Five 
thousand  miles  against  a  little  more  than  five  hundred,  and  this 
rich  fruit  against  that  lime,  falsely  called  orange.      Here  lies  the 


6 2  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

tropical  garden  of  our  land.      Let  us  make  it  commercially  our 
own. 

This  commerce  is  increasing.  One  haciendado,  or  farmer,  west 
of  the  city  of  Mexico,  sends  to  market  one  hundred  and  thirty 
thousand  cargoes  of  oranges  annually  from  his  plantation.  A  car- 
go is  a  donkey  burden,  and  weighs  three  hundred  pounds.  This 
makes  almost  twenty  thousand  tons.  1  give  this  tale  as  it  was 
given  to  me.  If  you  ask  whether  or  no  it  is  true,  I  answer,  after 
the  country's  fashion,  Quien  sabe?  You  must  remember  that  a 
hacienda  often  covers  many  square  leagues,  so  that  if  devoted  ex- 
clusively to  this  fruit,  it  could  produce  a  vast  quantity.  Whether 
that  statement  be  true  or  not,  it  is  true  that  the  fruit  is  the  best 
of  its  sort  I  ever  tasted,  and  that  it  could  control  the  markets  of 
America. 

The  plains  about  Cordova  are  very  rich,  and  bear  all  manner  of 
fruits  the  year  round.  The  scenery  is  as  grand  as  the  soil  is  fer- 
tile. Mountains  thousands  of  feet  high  rise  on  the  west  and  north, 
green  at  the  base,  bare  and  black  at  the  summit,  while  just  before 
vou,  as  you  look  and  move  westward,  stands  forth  that  perfect 
Orizaba. 

I  never  remembered  hearing  of  this  mountain  before,  though  a 
cultivated  fellow-traveler  informed  me  it  was  frequently  referred  to 
by  English  and  Spanish  writers.  This  statement  set  the  memories 
and  the  wits  of  the  listeners  a-running,  and  a  mass  of  quotations, 
as  well  adapted  to  this  market  as  the  "  quotations "  of  change 
are  to  it,  were  fished  up  from,  the  English  poets.  Probably  a  like 
knowledge,  or  ignorance,  would  have  given  like  results  from  Calde- 
ron,  The  Cid,  Lopez  de  Vega,  and  other  like  celebrities.  For  in 
stance,  had  not  Byron  said, 

"  Orizaba  looks  on  Marathon, 
And  Marathon  looks  on  the  sea?" 

and  also  told  us, 

"  He  that  would  Orizaba  climb  will  find 
Its  loftiest  peak  most  clothed  with  mist  and  snow." 


MOUNT  ORIZABA.  6 


j 


And  Scott  tells  of  his  experience  here,  in  the  well-known  poem 


beginning 


"  I  climbed  the  dark  brow  of  the  tall  Orizaba  ;" 


though  its  brow  is  whiter  than  a  blonde  Caucasian's ;  and  Sheri- 
dan Knowles  makes  Tell  say, 

"  Orizaba's  crags,  I'm  with  you  once  again." 

Emerson's  "  Monadnock  "  and  Lowell's  "  Katahdin"  are  misprints 
for  this  splendor  of  a  mountain.  Surely  English  poetry  is  full  of 
this  name.     Strange  that  one  never  saw  it  before. 

It  is  worthy  of  its  fame,  for  in  this  hollow  among  the  hills  it  puts 
on  especial  majesty.  You  are  well  up  to  its  base.  The  distant 
ocean  and  sea -port  view  is  exchanged  for  one  near  at  hand. 
Though  still  sixty  miles  away,  it  seems  to  rise  at  your  very  feet. 
How  superbly  it  lifts  its  shining  cone  into  the  shining  heavens ! 
Clouds  had  lingered  about  it  on  our  way  hither,  touching  now  its 
top,  now  swinging  round  its  sides.  But  here  they  are  burned  up, 
and  only  this  pinnacle  of  ice  shoots  up  fourteen  thousand  feet  be- 
fore your  amazed,  uplifted  eyes.  Mont  Blanc,  at  Chamouni,  has 
no  such  solitariness  of  position,  nor  rounded  perfection,  nor  rich 
surroundings.  Every  thing  conspires  to  give  this  the  chief  place 
among  the  hills  of  earth.  None  these  eyes  have  seen  equals  or 
approaches  it  in  every  feature.  It  will  yet  win  the  crowd  from 
Europe  to  its  grander  shrine. 

It  is  not  difficult  of  ascent,  in  this  being  inferior  to  Europe's 
Mont  Blanc,  if  that  be  an  inferiority  which  makes  its  summit  and 
the  view  therefrom  accessible  to  ordinary  daring. 

The  three  Mexican  volcanoes  have  been  often  under  foot,  though 
not  till  Cortez  came  was  this  achievement  known.  His  men,  in 
the  exuberance  of  their  superiority,  scaled  the  peaks  near  the  city, 
and  astonished  the  natives  by  their  feat.  They  brought  back  sul- 
phur from  the  crater  for  the  manufacture  of  powder,  thus  bring- 
ing the  fatal  mountain  in  more  deathly  shape  home  to  the  poor 
Aztec. 

5 


64  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

A  run  of  five  miles  brings  us  as  far  as  we  are  allowed  to  travel 
by  rail ;  and  Fortin  concludes  the  luxurious  cushions  of  a  first-class 
car,  and  transfers  us  to  the  hard  seats  of  a  diligkncia.  Misfortin  it 
might  be  phonographically  called,  for  here  exit  ease  and  pleasure, 
enter  peril  and  pain. 


THE  FIVE  PASSENGERS. 


65 


V. 

ON  THE  STAGE. 

Our  Companions. — Vain  Fear. — The  Plunge. — Coffee  Haciendas. — Peon  Life. 
— Orizaba  City. — The  Mountain -lined  Passway. — The  Cumbres. — The  Last 
Smile  of  Day  and  the  Hot  Lands. — Night  and  Useless  Terror. — "  Two-o'clock- 
in-the-morning  Courage." — Organ  Cactus. —  Sunrise. —  The  Volcano. —  Into 
Puebla  and  the  Cars. — The  three  Snow-peaks  together. — Epizaco. — Pulqui. — 
"There  is  Mexico  !" 

Behold  us  at  Fortin,  paying  eleven  dollars  for  our  stage  fare  to 
Puebla,  and  three  more,  lacking  a  quarter,  for  three  valises  of 
moderate  weight ;  eating  a  hasty  plate  of  soup  and  nice  cutlets, 
with  fried  slips  of  potatoes,  washed  down  with  Mexican  coffee, 
which  is  usually  first-rate  ;  not  so  here.  "Stage  is  ready  !"  jabbers 
in  Spanish  a  brown  boy.     All  boys  are  brown  here. 

Our  seats  are  taken  in  a  Concord  coach  made  in  Mexico,  a  big, 
tough,  lumbering,  easy  affair  when  the  roads  are  easy  ;  when  they 
are  rough,  it  jolts  and  jumps  as  if  the  spirit  of  the  paving-stones  in- 
spired it  with  their  madness  when  they  are  whirled  by  a  mob.  But 
it  is  made  to  stand  the  jumping  as  well  as  the  rocks  that  rock  it, , 
and  tosses  its  human  contents  as  unconcernedly  as  a  juggler  his 
balls.  There  are  only  five  passengers,  the  first  giving  out  of  the 
dismal  programme  so  faithfully  served  up  to  the  affrighted  appetite. 
These  five  men  were  the  two  Yankees,  who,  of  course,  had  neither 
garlic  nor  tobacco  about  them,  though  one  of  them  smoked  all 
the  time,  but  they  were  the  best  of  cigars,  and  three  Mexican  gen- 
tlemen, on  their  travels  to  see  the  inauguration,  one  a  son  of  a 
senator  from  Yucatan,  and  one  an  archaeologist,  and  his  friend,  a 
light,  German-looking  gentleman,  who  had  just  been  exploring  the 
regions  of  Ixmail,  which  Stephens  has  so  well  described  and  illus- 
trated.    So  the  second  terror  disappears.     The  gentry  cliat  freely 


66 


OLTR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


with  the  Spanish-speaking  Yankee,  and  all  goes  merry  as  the  presi- 
dential reception  the  night  before. 

The  road  that  was  said  to  be  so  fearfully  and  wonderfully  not 
made,  is  broad  and  smooth  the  first  ten  miles.  It  winds  down  a 
steep  hill  for  two  or  three  miles.  The  torrid  January  sun  pours  its 
heat  fiercely  on  the  coach.  The  driver  and  his  boy  are  in  their 
shirt  -  sleeves,  and  the  passengers  wish  they  were.  The  drivers 
have  skin  and  hair-covered  overpants  for  the  coming  Cumbres  and 
midnight.     Cottages  line  the  roadside,  half  hidden   amidst  huge 


a  peon's  house. 

banana  and  coffee  bushes,  tall  mango-trees,  and  flowers  of  every 
hue.  The  cottages  are  chiefly  of  cane,  with  sides  not  over  four 
feet,  and  roofs  rising  ten  to  twenty  feet,  some  even  taller,  giving 
them  much  coolness  and  airiness,  the  great  desiderata.  Brown 
women  are  busy  at  their  household  tasks,  and  brown  children  lie, 
like  beetles,  lazily  in  the  shade  or  sun.  The  parrot  screams  and 
jabbers,  and  picks  its  handsome  coat  of  its  unhandsome  parasites, 
poised  on  perches  at  times,  but  not  always  put  in  cages.     Nature 


PEON  LIFE. 


67 


is  jammed  full  of  life.  Who  dreams  of  die  snow-fall  of  death  that 
now  covers  all  that  north  country,  and  makes  the  poor  so  poor, 
shivering  over  their  scanty  fires?  Are  these  poor  not  the  poorer? 
you  will  ask.  I  fear  the  answer  will  be  in  your  favor.  And  yet 
that  does  not  make  one  like  the  ice  and  snow  and  zero  atmosphere 
any  the  more.  Give  these  poor  New  England's  religion,  and  they 
will  be  vastly  her  superior  in  climatic  conditions. 


GREAT    BRIDGE   OF  MALTRATA. 


We  plunge  down  the  steep  road,  a  race  of  the  horses'  heels 
with  the  coach's  wheels  as  to  which  shall  touch  bottom  first. 
The  heels  touched  bottom  all  the  time,  and  of  course  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  hill  ahead  of  the  wheels,  but  only  a  length  ahead. 
High  along  the  side  of  this  exceedingly  steep  hill  creeps  the  rail- 
road, making  some  of  its  most  surprising  feats  of  engineering  as  it 


08  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

winds  and  leaps  across  this. chasm.  It  becomes  almost  circular 
in  its  twists  and  turns. 

The  coffee  haciendas  line  the  roadside.  The  bush  is  usually 
small,  not  over  six  or  eight  feet  high,  and  spreading  out  like  a  bar- 
berry-bush. The  berry  is  scattered  over  it,  having  a  reddish  tint, 
sometimes  quite  light.  It  is  picked  of  this  color,  and  ripened  to 
its  familiar  brown  by  exposure  on  mats.  You  see  it  spread  out  in 
the  door-yards,  for  this  is  its  harvest-time.  The  sun  is  too  hot  for 
the  coffee-tree,  and  so  they  plant  bananas  and  other  taller  and 
thick-leaved  trees  among  it  to  shade  it  from  the  direct  rays.  It 
wants  heat,  but  not  light. 

The  Mexican  coffee  is  among  the  best  in  the  world,  the  best 
Colima  berry  at  the  west  coast  selling  as  high  as  a  dollar  and  a 
half  a  pound.  It  is  prepared  very  strong,  and  then  served  up  with 
two-thirds  hot  milk,  if  you  are  not  acclimated.  As  you  become  so, 
the  proportion  of  milk  disappears,  until  it  is  well-nigh  all  coffee. 
But  the  coffee-house  boys  always  bring  two  pots,  one  of  coffee,  one 
of  hot  milk,  and  pour  at  your  pleasure.  Here,  too,  one  of  Dr. 
Holmes's  proofs  of  the  millennium  is  satisfactorily  settled  : 

"  When  what  we  pay  for,  that  we  drink, 
From  juice  of  grape  to  coffee-bean." 

The  juice  of  grape  is  still  here  a  fabulous  beverage.  Logwood 
is  too  plenty,  and  grapes  too  few.  But  the  coffee  is  coffee.  As 
Thurlow  Weed  says  he  always  eats  sausage  serenely  in  Cincinnati, 
because  there  hog  is  cheaper  than  dog,  so  here  coffee  is  more 
plentiful  than  chiccory  or  peas,  and  one  can  feel  assured  that  he 
tastes  the  real  article.  It  will  become  more  and  more  an  article 
of  export,  and  replace  the  Rio  berry,  to  which  it  is  far  superior  in 
flavor  and  softness,  even  if  it  does  not  rival  the  Java  and  the 
Mocha.  Ampng  the  beverages  that  will  drive  out  the  gross  intox- 
icants, lager  and  whisky,  is  this  pleasant  Mexican  coffee. 

Orizaba  has  such  an  entrance  as  gave  our  critical  companion  a 
right  to  justify  his  charge  against  the  road.  The  stones  that  once 
paved  it  lie  knocked  about  on  the  surface.     Deep  holes  abound. 


ROUGH  RIDING. 


69 


4 


m^mm 


\s-nHfr_jfjfa<y'ij;f~ri      r 


VIEW   OF   ORIZABA. 


and  the  stage  reels  to  and  fro  among  the  stones  and  pits  like  a 
very  drunken  man,  and  the  passengers  follow  its  example.  A 
half  mile  of  such  a  tumble  and  we  strike  the  pavement,  which  is 
not  much  better.  The  whipped-up  mules  fly  over  its  boulders,  and 
we  jump  up  and  down  like  a  small  boy  on  a  high-trotting  horse. 
The  street  is  long — very  long  it  seems  to  us — the  houses  of  one 
story,  and  of  no  especial  beauty  that  we  could  see  in  our  unseemly 
dancing. 

At  last,  "after  much  turmoil,"  we  fly  ferociously  up  to  a  long 
high  wall,  pierced  with  long  high  windows,  well  protected  with  long 
high  bars,  a  single  story,  and  striped  prettily  in  fancy  colors.  At 
the  big  portal  we  stop,  with  a  jounce  worse  than  all  that  preceded, 
and  beggars  of  every  degree  welcome  us  to  the  Hotel  Diligencias 
of  Orizaba.     How  they  whine  and  grin  and  show  off  their  horrid 


7o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

rags  and  sores  !  What  a  commentary  on  Romanism  !  It  breeds 
these  human  vermin  as  naturally  as  the  blankets  of  its  worshipers 
do  the  less  noisome  sort.  The  more  "piety,"  the  more  poverty; 
the  more  of  workless  faith,  the  more  of  this  idle  work. 

The  pieces  of  our  broken  bodies  are  put  together  after  a  fashion, 
and  we  stretch  our  legs  an  hour  about  the  town.  A  live  mill  keeps 
the  town  chattering,  and  gives  it  an  unusual  Mexican  activity.  But 
for  that,  only  earthquakes,  of  which  it  has  a  goodly  share,  and  the 
arrival  of  the  stage-coach,  would  make  it  sensible  of  motion.  The 
houses  are  all  of  one  story,  because  of  these  earthquakes.  A 
Southern  gentleman  told  me  that  once,  when  here,  a  wave  came, 
and  he  rushed  into  the  court,  and  clung  to  a  post  for  protection, 
while  the  ground  rocked  like  a  sea.  He  never  was  so  frightened 
in  his  life.  Well  it  may  cause  fear,  for  the  still  and  solid  earth  is 
about  all  the  basis  most  people  have  for  faith  or  any  thing  else. 

The  church  here  has  a  picture  on  its  facade  of  a  priest  stopping 
with  his  hands  a  pillar  half  fallen,  and  a  motto,  which  was  too 
far  up  for  my  dim  eyes  to  read,  that  probably  told  how  he  had  by 
prayer  prevented  the  falling  of  that  church.  Mr.  Tyndall  will  have 
to  come  down  and  correct  these  errors  of  faith,  for  as  Pope,  modi- 
fied, says  (one  might  prove  thus  that  he  also  knew  of  the  great  vol- 
cano near), 

"  If  Orizaba  totter  from  on  high, 
Shall  gravitation  cease  if  you  go  by?" 

Why  not?  Here  a  church  seems  to  have  been  upheld.  If  not 
churches,  souls  certainly  have.  The  overfaith  of  Romanism  is  no 
worse  than  the  underfaith  of  Tyndallism.  Between  the  extremes 
lies  the  middle  path  of  truth  and  safety. 

A  ravine  goes  through  the  town,  luscious  with  tropical  foliage 
and  fruit.  Above  it  hangs  the  chattering  mill,  which  on  its  edge 
catches  its  water  and  busily  makes  the  native  wheat  into  flour.  It 
was  the  first  factory  I  had  seen  in  Mexico,  and  therefore  doubly 
interesting.  Twenty-five  dollars  for  a  barrel  of  flour  should  gener- 
ate more  grist-mills  and  wheat-fields,  if  protection  is  the  true  poli- 
cy.    The  narrow  lanes  run  through  banana  gardens  to  the  open 


THE    WINTER  RESORT. 


71 


fields,  and  grand  black  mountains  rise  close  around,  while  the  huge 
peak  that  gives  the  town  its  name  towers,  white  and  smiling  in  that 
golden  midday,  far  above  the  clouds. 


RIVER   AT   ORIZABA. 


Orizaba  is  the  favorite  resort  of  the  gentry  of  Mexico.  Being  on 
the  railroad,  it  has  outstripped  its  rivals,  Jalapa  and  Cuernavaca, 
and  bids  fair  to  be  the  winter  home  of  the  big  city.  Some  of  the 
finest  estates  in  the  world  are  perched  on  its  hills  and  hidden  in  its 
hollows.     They  enjoy  the  perpetual  luxury  of  every  tropical  prod- 


72  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

uct,  with  the  pyramid  of  ice  ever  cooling  the  fancy,  if  not  the  air. 
It  will  be  the  favorite  resort  as  well  of  wanderers  from  the  United 
States  of  the  North. 

The  cars  here  begin  to  really  climb  the  Cumbres ;  four  thousand 
feet  they  accomplish  in  less  than  thirty  miles.     It  is  holding  on  by 

the  eyelids. 

"The  boldest  held  their  breath 
For  a  time." 

As  they  go,  step  by  step,  up  the  sides  of  these  gorges,  which  "  ope 
their  ponderous  and  marble  jaws"  to  swallow  up  that  smoking, 
puffing  insect  which  crawls  like  a  beetle,  its  rings  each  separate 
car,  along  the  almost  precipitous  sides  of  the  huge  barrancas,  a 
hand  thrust  out  on  one  side  would  touch  the  mountain,  on  the 
other  stretch  out  over  thousands  of  feet  of  empty  space  between  it 
and  the  rocks  below.  The  road  is  the  finest  bit  of  engineering  on 
this,  if  not  on  any,  continent. 

The  stage-road  twenty  miles  from  Orizaba  is  the  grandest  I  have 
ever  traveled.  It  is  smooth  and  pleasant  of  itself.  The  crazy 
Mexican  ponies  that  it  took  so  long  to  start  are  off,  at  last,  with  a 
leap  and  a  whirl,  and  the  one-storied,  if  not  one-horse,  town  is  left 
behind.  The  way  is  nearly  straight,  very  level,  and  lined  on  each 
side,  at  the  distance  of  a  mile  or  two,  with  a  succession  of  cliffs. 
They  stand  out  of  the  valley  as  sharp  as  if  lifted  up  in  frame-work 
by  human  hands.  Their  origin  is  clearly  volcanic.  The  sharp 
cut,  the  iron-like  look,  the  wave  shape,  the  striated  lines,  like  the 
lava  of  Vesuvius,  all  prove  their  origin.  They  are  two  to  four 
thousand  feet  high,  I  should  say,  on  a  passing  glance.  The  valley 
between  is  rich  in  every  fruit  and  flower  and  shrub.  Here  is  a 
river  gliding  along,  fringed  with  heavy  willows,  larger  and  compact- 
er  of  leaf  than  their  temperate-zone  brother,  but  of  the  same  bend- 
ing and  hugging  nature.  No  English  river  bank  was  ever  more 
lovely  in  adornment,  or  more  hidden  from  the  passing  eye.  The 
hills  are  mostly  rock,  without  the  possibility  of  culture,  but  on 
some  of  them  grasses  and  trees  have  sprung  up,  and  goats  and 
sheep  find  pasturage  and  shelter. 


A    BEAUTIFUL    VALLEY.  73 

.  The  pass  is  without  parallel  in  any  spot  of  Europe  or  America 
for  its  symmetry  and  grandeur.  Interlachen  has  taller  mountains, 
but  not  so  perfect  a  valley.  For  a  score  of  miles  you  never  leave 
these  mountain  walls.  Like  the  sphinx-lined  pathway  to  Theban 
temples,  they  seem  to  guard  the  road  to  the  distant  capital.  They 
end  fittingly  in  true  Spanish  and  Mexican  grandeur,  which  is 
stately  from  beginning  to  end. 

The  Cumbres  are  their  stopping-place.  These,  too,  had  been  a 
part  of  the  sup  of  horrors  forced  down  the  resisting  will  by  those 
who  would  compel  it  to  abandon  its  purpose. 

We  enter  upon  a  still  more  romantic  experience.  The  path 
winds  up,  back  and  forward,  so  frequently  as  almost  to  make  it 
look  from  beneath  like  a  series  of  parallel  lines.  This  wall  con- 
cludes the  valley  as  completely  as  if  it  had  been  built  by  nature  as 
a  dam  across  its  green  river.  There  is  a  perfect  pause.  No  way 
out  of  the  valley  in  this  direction  but  up  this  wall.  It  is  not  of 
rock,  but  of  hard  'earth  burned  in  this  ceaseless  sun,  and  support- 
ing a  little  herbage  and  a  few  trees.  They  also  conclude  the  Tier- 
ras  Calientes,  or  Hot  Lands,  of  the  shore  and  its  first  wide  terrace. 

The  valley  itself  terminates  exquisitely.  It  lies,  a  basin  of 
green,  between  the  hills,  a  mile  or  two  wide,  the  most  of  it  under 
culture,  and  cut  into  tiny  strips  of  varied  tint,  brown,  green,  golden, 
according  to  its  products.  A  bit  of  a  village,  with  a  small,  dingy 
white  church,  is  on  its  southern  edge.  As  we  climb  the  steep  face 
of  the  mountain  this  smiling  parterre  lies  lovely  below.  It  looks 
not  unlike  the  meadows  of  Northampton  from  the  top  of  Holyoke, 
only  our  height  is  twice  or  thrice  as  great,  and  its  breadth  is  not  a 
fourth  as  large.  The  setting  sun  looks  lovingly  on  this  bit  of  res- 
cued nature  among  the  black  and  bare  hills,  and  as  we  wind  our 
way  up,  every  new  ascent  makes  it  look  the  lovelier,  as  it  grows 
the  more  diminutive.  It  is  a  baby  landscape,  and  all  the  more 
charming  for  its  infantile  littleness. 

The  sun  goes  down  as  we  go  up,  and  by  the  time  the  top  is 
reached,  the  baby,  in  its  cradle  of  lofty  hills,  has  gone  into  shadow 
and  approaching  sleep.     A  light  twinkles  from  a  window  far  down 


74  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

there,  like  the  smile  of  the  eye  before  it  closes  in  sleep,  and  the 
mountain  valley  of  Orizaba,  with  its  petite  perfection  of  a  termi- 
nation, disappears  from  our  view,  perhaps  forever ;  for  the  stage- 
coach gives  way  to  the  rail  -  coach,  and  leaves  this  grand  defile 
on  a  side-track.  Its  path  is  on  the  northern  side  of  these  hills, 
through  a  like  but  not  more  lovely  valley. 

This  summit  properly  concludes  the  Tierras  Calientes.  They  are 
pf  two  classes.  The  low  flat  belt  which  lies  along  the  sea,  and 
which  extends  back  some  fifty  miles  to  the  base  of  the  mountains, 
and  the  first  terrace  of  the  hills.  This  terrace  is  about  three  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  sea.  It  seems  to  engirt  the  whole  Mexican 
range.  It  extends  from  Monterey  to  Oaxaca.  Pronounce  this 
"Whahaca,"  and  you  will  find  it  easier  to  handle  than  it  looks. 
On  this  shelf,  not  quite  half-way  up  to  the  level  of  the  capital,  is 
found  the  most  fruitful  section  of  the  country.  Here  are  perched 
along  the  eastern  side  of  the  country  such  towns  as  Monterey, 
Jalapa,  Cordova,  Orizaba,  Cuernavaca,  and  Oaxaca.  This  is  the 
best  region  for  the  production  of  the  banana,  orange,  coffee,  sugar, 
and  other  semi-tropical  fruits.  The  cocoa,  pine-apple,  rubber-tree, 
and  other  more  tropical  products  belong  to  the  plains  by  the  sea. 

This  terrace,  too,  contains  the  favorite  gardens  of  the  land.  Its 
cities  have  been  the  winter  retreats  of  the  rich  men  of  the  capital 
ever  since  the  country  was  occupied  by  the  Europeans.  Jalapa  lies 
the  lowest,  being  sixty  miles  north-west  of  Vera  Cruz.  It  is  said 
to  possess  the  finest  view  of  gulf  and  mountain  of  any  city.  It 
was  on  the  high  -  road  to  the  capital  before  the  railroad  took  a 
more  southern  route.  Cortez  passed  up  its  pass,  and  Scbtt  follow- 
ed. To-day  it  is  on  a  side-track.  Its  jalap,  pronounced  as  it  is 
spelled,  brings  grief  to  those  children  whose  doctors  adhere  to  the 
old  practice.  Should  you  adopt  its  Spanish  pronunciation  of 
halapa,  you  would  avoid  that  disagreeable  reminder. 

Cordova  and  Orizaba  are  on  the  same  side-hill,  and  are  to-day 
the  favorite  resort  of  the  Mexican  gentry,  the  latter  especially. 
Here,  too,  are  the  repair  shops  of  the  railroad,  so  that  quite  an 
English-speaking  population  is  growing  up  about  this  spot.     Cuer- 


A    GROUP  OF  HORSEMEN.  75 

navaca,  to  the  south,  is  on  the  same  rich  belt,  and  was  the  chosen 
seat  of  Cortez.  We  are  yet  four  thousand  feet  from  the  top  level 
of  the  land,  though  the  crawl  of  an  hour  or  two  up  the  face  of  this 
dam  has  lessened  that  altitude. 

Our  mules  have  rested  while  this  lesson  on  topography  was 
being  given,  but  they  must  now  hurry  forward,  for  night  and  clan- 
ger are  on  us.  Give  your  last  glance  into  that  deep  south  valley, 
that  mountain-lined  passway,  that  last  of  the  villages  of  the  Hot 

Lands. 

A  group  of  horsemen  passed  us  when  we  were  half-way  up,  red- 
jacketed,  broad-and-slouched-hatted,  well  armed,  dark,  and  dan- 
gerous looking.  Were  they  spying  out  the  contents  of  the  coach  ? 
We  easily  change  them  into  robbers ;  not  so  easily,  however,  as 
they  may  change  themselves  into  that  shape.  Night  comes  swiftly 
down.  One  realizes  the  rapidity  of  the  flight  of  Apollo  in  Homer 
— he  came  like  night — in  these  tropical  countries.  Our  three 
Mexicans  are  left  at  Orizaba,  and  their  places  are  taken  by  a  rev- 
olutionist general,  with  his  carbine,  and  a  Frenchwoman  who  had 
been  hostess  at  a  hotel  most  frequented  by  robbers  on  the  pass 
from  Puebla  to  Mexico,  between  Popocatepetl  and  Iztaccihuatl — 
not  very  encouraging  comrades  for  weak  nerves.  Our  first  station 
is  a  great  robber  haunt.  The  Red  Bridge  it  is  called — whether 
from  paint  or  blood,  who  knows  ?  Fear  says  blood;  fact,  probably, 
paint. 

The  lady  offers  me  a  cigarette,  which  is  graciously  declined. 
She  is  offered  in  return  a  rich  Cordova  orange,  hanging  on  its 
stem  and  among  its  green  leaves.  This  is  even  more  graciously 
accepted.  But  extremes  meet.  The  next  morning  the  orange  was 
found  knocking  about  the  coach.  So  both  the  cigarette  and  Cor- 
dova failed  of  reaching  the  lips  to  which  they  were  proffered.  She 
lighted,  and  smoked,  and  expectorated  as  perfectly  as  the  rebel 
general  before  her,  and  showed  she  was  all  ready  to  lead  a  revolu- 
tion or  vote  for  Lerdo,  as  circumstances  and  pesos  might  offer.  The 
latter  is  the  stronger  circumstance  here,  as  everywhere.  Dollars 
outweigh  scruples,  whether  of  conscience  or  of  the  apothecary. 


76  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

The  unsuccessful  revolutionist  said  the  people  were  getting  sick 
of  Lerdo.  He  did  nothing.  They  wanted  railroads  and  emigration  j 
he  opposed  both.  He  was  Spanish,  and  not  American.  When 
some  one  told  Diaz,  the  rival  candidate,  that  he  would  be  the  next 
President,  "  No,"  said  he,  "  there  will  never  be  another  President. 
By  that  time  I  shall  be  an  American  citizen."  This  is,  much  of 
it,  the  talk  of  the  outs  against  the  ins — mere  bosh — Diaz  probably 
being  as  little  of  an  American  as  Lerdo  after  he  gets  elected.  Yet 
some  say  that  railroad  enterprises  will  receive  a  check,  and  that 
the  new  President  will  install  himself  with  the  Church  and  re- 
actionary and  anti-American  party.  I  doubt  it.  He  is  too  wise. 
If  so,  the  revolution  is  only  the  surer,  swifter,  and  completer.  I 
believe  he  will  verify  his  antecedents,  and  lead  the  country  in  lib- 
erty, education,  and  improvement. 

Our  general  debarks  at  the  next  station,  and  leaves  the  stage  to 
three  of  us.  Each  takes  a  seat  and  stretches  out  ad  libitum.  Dust 
piles  in  on  us  as  a  covering,  and,  through  the  mouth,  covering  the 
inside  as  well  as  outside  of  the  body.  The  moon  shines  clear- 
ly. "  Tres  jolie  pour  le  voyageur,"  says  the  French  lady.  (Very 
pleasant  for  the  traveler.)  Indeed  it  is.  The  hills  stand  out  clear- 
ly. The  cactus  hugs  the  dusty  road,  as  thick-set  as  an  English 
hedge  or  New  England  bramble -bushes  on  a  country  roadside. 
Its  tall  leaves  tower  like  huge  crowns,  and  show  not  so  much  the 
richness  of  the  soil  as  the  intensity  of  the  heat.  The  organ  variety 
is  quite  frequent,  and  looks,  as  it  lines  the  road  in  the  gray  moon- 
light, as  if  we  were  riding  through  Springfield  Arsenal.  This  does 
not  make  the  terror  less,  unless  we  change  the  feeling,  and  fancy 
our  road  is  through  a  vast  organ.  That  changes  the  night  to 
music,  though  we  can  not  quite  complete  the  quotation,  and  say, 

"  The  cares  infesting  the  clay 
Have  folded  their  tents  like  Arabs, 
And  silently  stole  away." 

Cares,  or  fears,  which  are  the  soul  of  cares,  still  encamp  about. 
A  few  shots  from  the  sun  will  scatter  them  all.     Here  we  are,  six 


ARRIVAL   AT  SAINT  AUGUSTINE. 


77 


or  seven  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  and  here  flourish  the  huge- 
leaved  plants  that  only  hot-houses  can  raise  in  the  upper  States, 
and  they  at  their  best  in  but  a  puny  shape.  Crosses  at  the  road- 
side show  where  some  have  been  murdered,  and  help  along  our 
fears  and  faith  with  their  memento  mori. 


THE   ORGAN   CACTUS. 

The  moon  goes  clown  as  we  drive  at  ten  o'clock  through  the 
still  streets  of  Saint  Augustine,  as  still  as  when  we  leave  them  three 
hours  later.  Not  a  person  or  creature  is  abroad.  The  adobe  huts 
are  all  closed,  and  every  donkey  ceases  to  bray  and  every  dog  to 
bark.  The  court-yard  welcomes  us,  and  a  supper,  not  over-relish- 
ed or  over-relishable,  and  a  bed,  exceedingly  relished.  Out  in  that 
court-yard  the  tropical  plants  are  diffusing  their  fragrance  on  the 
dark,  soft,  summer  January  air,  as  we  hie  us  to  our  wished-for  couch. 

Three  hours,  and  we  are  roused  up,  and  are  soon  off.  The  mule- 
boy,  well  clad  now  against  the  cold,  waves  his  flambeau,  and  the 
coach  rattles  out  of  the  sleeping  town. 


78  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  .NEIGHBOR. 

The  host  has  loaned  us  blankets  and  pillows,  and  we  make  our 
beds  on  the  nicking  seats.  The  roads  are  bad  here,  and  no  mis- 
take ;  at  \cdsi  they  seem  so  in  that  two  of  the  clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. Napoleon  said  that  two-of-the-clock-in-the-morning  courage 
was  the  most  difficult  to  find.  I  agree  with  him.  For  the  first 
time  since  starting  I  began  to  wish  I  had  not  come.  The  coach 
was  cold,  and  knocked  us  about ;  the  road  was  rough ;  the  flam- 
beau burned  out ;  and  aches  and  chills,  and  sleepiness  without 
sleep,  and  perils  by  robbers,  all  made  a  mixture  that  required 
more  than  that  sort  of  courage  to  face. 

But  we  were  in  for  it,  and  there  was  no  retreat.  Like  Cortez, 
when  climbing  this  same  range,  we  had  burned  our  boats  behind 
us.  Nulla  vestigia  retrorsum.  So  on  we  drag  our  slow  length. 
The  mules  seem  terribly  lazy.  We  are  sure  that  the  mule -boy 
does  not  stone  the  head  ones  enough,  nor  the  driver  lash  the  rear 
ones.  I  had  enjoyed  (I  fear  I  must  confess  it),  when  sitting  on  the 
top  in  the  afternoon,  seeing  the  boy  shy  stones  at  the  three  front 
mules.  There  are  three  tiers  of  mules — two  in  the  thills,  three  be- 
fore them,  and  three  in  front.  The  three  leaders  can  not  be  reach- 
ed by  the  driver's  lash,  and  so  the  boy  who  accompanies  him  picks 
up  a  bag  of  stones,  and  lets  them  drive,  one  at  a  time,  hitting  the 
creature  every  time,  and  just  where  he  aims— flank,  neck,  or  ear. 
They  did  not  seem  to  mind  it  much,  cringing  a  little,  and  picking 
up  a  little,  but  not  much  of  either. 

The  robbers  do  not  make  their  appearance,  the  only  disappoint- 
ment we  suffer.     The  weary  hours  drag  along  from  two  to  five, 

when 

"Night's  candles  are  burned  out,  and  jocund  day 

Stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain-top." 

How  great  the  change  that  comes  over  the  tired  half-sleepers ! 
My  companion  had  fulfilled  one  Scripture,  and  I,  having  com- 
pelled him  to  go  with  me  to  Orizaba,  went  twice  the  distance  of  his 
own  accord.  He  wakes  and  chatters.  Madame  the  cigarettist 
rouses  and  rises.  As  a  fond  lover  said  on  a  fonder  occasion,  "  Up 
rose  the  sun,  and  up  rose  Emily,"  so  is  it  here.     Popocatepetl  puts 


TEPEACA,  AND  DAY-BREAK.  79 

iii  his  appearance  and  Iztaccihuatl.  (I  want  you  to  learn  to  pro- 
nounce these,  so  I  keep  inserting  them.  Do  not  skip  them  ;  they 
are  very  easy  when  you  get  the  hang  of  them.  Take  them  just  as 
they  look,  and  look  at  them  that  you  may  take  them,  remembering 
that  "hu  "  is  like  "wh")  How  quiet  and  grand  they  look  in  their 
glittering  whiteness  ;  the  former  a  rounded  dome  of  the  Orizaba 
type,  the  latter  a  range  of  peaks,  with  less  form  and  comeliness. 

"Our  Em'ly  "  lights  her  cigarette,  and  smokes  as  calmly  as  the 
smoking  mountains,  which  do  not  smoke.  I  have  seen  no  sign  of  a 
volcano  in  any  of  them.  She  is  from  near  Strasbourg ;  and  when 
she  was  told  she  was  no  longer  French,  but  German,  "  No,  no !" 
she  exclaimed;  "Fran$ais  toujours  !  L '  Allemand  barbare  /"  But 
she  was  not  French  forever,  and  if  Germany  is  barbarous,  it  suc- 
ceeds. 

The  Indian  village  of  Tepeaca  is  soon  entered.  A  town  when 
Cortez  landed,  and  all  Indian  to-day,  as  is  about  all  the  rest  of  the 
country,  it  was  a  favorite  place  for  him  to  retreat  upon,  and  had  no 
small  influence  in  deciding  his  fortunes.  It  looks  to-day  as  if  it 
never  could  have  influenced  the  fortune  of  the  lowest  nature,  much 
less  that  of  this  lordly  invader. 

Soon  the  flame-shots  come.  The  sun  breaks  suddenly  and  su- 
perbly on  the  black  and  weary  night.  Never  before  did  I  so  feel 
the  power  of  that  other  verse  sung  at  the  grave's  mouth,  the  begin- 
ning of  the  night  of  death, 

"  Break  from  thy  throne,  illustrious  Morn  !" 

What  a  shout  will  ring  through  the  universe  when  that  day  tri- 
umphs forever  over  that  long,  long  night  of  dusty  death  ! 

A  cup  of  chocolate  and  a  fresh  roll,  served  by  Indian  dames, 
and  we  rattle  down  hill  twenty-five  to  thirty  miles,  to  Puebla.  The 
fields  open  wide  to  the  bases  of  the  P.  and  I.  aforesaid.  You  can 
pronounce  them  if  they  are  not  printed  in  full.  Corn-stalks  are 
standing  in  the  fields,  and  in  some  instances  the  corn  is  being 
gathered.  Melinchi,  a  high  mountain  anywhere  but  here,  rises  on 
our  right,  opposite  the  snow  volcanoes.     It  is  named  for  the  favor- 


g0  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

ite  Indian  mistress  of  Cortez,  who,  more  than  all  other  persons, 
helped  him  to  conquer.  It  is  the  haunt  of  robbers,  and  its  caves 
are  dens  of  thieves. 

We  stop  only  once  to  change  horses  and  to  buy  some  pretty 
Steel  trinkets,  pushed  into  our  faces  by  boys  and  men,  who  seem 
to  find  the  only  patronage  for  quite  extensive  steel  works  in  these 
passing  travelers.  They  offer  little  flat-irons,  spurs,  cuff-buttons, 
and  other  well-executed  articles  of  embossed  steel. 

The  towers  of  Puebla  soon  come  to  view,  and  a  long,  wide,  dusty 
thoroughfare,  poorly  kept  up,  leads  us  to  the  vale  where  the  sacred 
city  lies,  seemingly  close  at  the  base  of  Iztaccihuatl,  but  actually 
sixty  miles  from  it.  We  pass  the  fort  over  which  French  and 
Mexicans  fought,  by  churches  and  churches  and  churches,  into 
narrow,  busy,  well -paved  streets,  to  our  hotel  court-yard,  whence, 
after  the  immeasurable  dust  has  been  measurably  removed,  we  go 
to  the  depot  and  start  for  Mexico.  As  we  shall  return  here  again, 
we  leave  it  for  the  present  undescribed. 

If  you  want  to  know  that  luxury  of  modern  civilization,  the  rail- 
car,  put  between  the  beginning  and  ending  of  your  journey  a 
twenty-two  hours'  stretch  of  staging  in  a  mountain  land.  Then 
you  will  relish  it.  How  vast  these  plains  outspread  themselves  ! 
What  a  change  from  the  narrow  terrace  of  the  coast  and  the 
tumbled-up  steepness  of  the  intermediate  country !  We  climbed 
seven  to  eight  thousand  feet  from  the  base  of  Chiquihuite  to  Tepe- 
aca,  a  distance  of  not  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  It  was 
all  Cumbres.  Here  we  have  prairies  as  flat  and  broad  as  those  of 
Illinois,  but  not  as  rich  ;  yet,  unlike  them,  bounded  with  magnifi- 
cent hills,  snow -covered  and  smoking,  and  black  and  comely. 
What  would  not  Chicago  give  for  just  one  of  them?  The  road 
runs  about  a  hundred  miles  through  a  dry,  and  lean,  and  level 
land. 

At  Epizaco,  the  halting-place  and  half-way  house  between  Mexi- 
co and  Puebla,  we  get  a  glimpse  of  the  three  snow  peaks,  the  only 
place  where  I  have  seen  them  together.  Orizaba  lies  low;  his 
stony  British  stare  being  seen  just  above  the  horizon,  while  his  up- 


THE  PEOPLE'S  BEVERAGE.  8 1 

land  rivals  stand  out  in  all  their  proportions.  He  is  lower,  not 
because  of  actual  inferiority,  but  because  he  is  farther  clown  this 
orange  of  earth.     They  are  all  of  nearly  equal  height. 

Here,  too,  we  get  not  only  our  last  look  at  Orizaba,  but  our  first 
at  a  filthy  habit  of  man.  Old  folks  and  children  thrust  into  your 
noses,  and  would  fain  into  your  mouths,  the  villainous  drink  of 
the  country — pulqui.  It  is  the  people's  chief  beverage.  It  tastes 
like  sour  and  bad-smelling  buttermilk,  is  white  like  that,  but  thin. 
They  crowd  around  the  cars  with  it,  selling  a  pint  measure  for 
three  cents.  I  tasted  it,  and  was  satisfied.  It  is  only  not  so  vil- 
lainous a  drink  as  lager,  and  London  porter,  and  Bavarian  beer, 
and  French  vinegar-wine,  and  Albany  ale.  It  is  hard  to  tell  which 
of  these  is  "stinkingest  of  the  stinking  kind." 

How  abominable  are  the  tastes  which  an  appetite  for  strong 
drink  creates  !  The  nastiest  things  human  beings  take  into  their 
mouths  are  their  favorite  intoxicants.  If  administered  as  medi- 
cines, they  would  never  taste  them,  except  under  maternal  and 
uxorial  constraint.  And  yet  the  guzzlers  of  England,  Germany, 
America,  and  Mexico  pour  down  huge  draughts  of  sour  or  bitter 
stuff,  all  for  the  drunk  feeling  that  follows. 

The  pulqui  is  a  white  liquor  found  in  the  maguey,  a  species  of 
the  cactus.  It  grows  eight  years  uselessly  as  a  drink.  That  year 
it  becomes  yet  more  useless  by  depositing  in  its  centre  a  bowl  of 
this  juice.  If  picked  then,  all  right,  or  all  wrong,  rather.  Just  as 
this  central  bulb  is  beginning  to  swell  with  its  coming  juices,  it  is 
scooped  out,  and  a  hole  big  enough  to  hold  a  pail  is  made  in  the 
bottom  of  the  middle  of  the  plant.  Into  this  cavity  for  three  or 
four  months  the  juice  exudes,  and  is  taken  out  by  the  pailful  daily. 
If  the  plant  is  left  alone,  this  bulb  shoots  into  a  stalk  ten  to  twelve 
feet  high,  with  a  blossom.  It  is  this  blossom  which  is  exhibited  in 
our  States  as  the  century-plant — a  seven  to  ten  years',  and  not  a 
hundred  years',  blossom.     Then  it  comes  to  seed  and  naught. 

The  chief  traffic  of  the  road  is  in  carrying  this  stuff  to  Pucbla 
and  Mexico.  It  lies  at  the  station  in  pig-skins  and  barrels,  the 
pigs  looking  more  hoggish  than  ever,  as  they  lie  on   their  backs 


82 


OUR   XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


and  arc  tied  at  each  [eg  and  at  the  nose,  stuffed  full  of  this  foolish 
stuff!  It  ferments  fiercely,  and  the  barrels  are  left  uncorked  and 
the  pigs'  noses  unmuzzled  to  prevent  explosion.  You  will  see  the 
natives  sticking  their  noses  into  the  hog's  nose,  and  drinking  the 
milk  of  this  swinish  cocoa-nut,  even  as  they  are  dumping  it  on  the 
platform.  Never  was  like  to  like  more  strikingly  exhibited  than 
in  such  a  union  of  hosrs  and  men. 


MAGUEY    PLANT. 


Thousands  of  acres  are  set  out  with  the  plant,  a  few  feet  apart, 
in  every  state  of  growth,  from  a  month  to  its  octave  of  years,  when 
it  sees  its  corruption,  and  the  people  begin  theirs. 

So  have  I  seen,  as  Jeremy  Taylor  would  say,  the  Connecticut  Val- 
ley filled,  from  Hartford  to  Brattleborough,  with  a  like  large  and 
deep  green  shrub,  growing  each  by  itself,  putting  forth  broad  leaves, 
not  for  the  bowl  of  juice  at  its  heart,  but  for  the  leaves  themselves, 
which  are  not  for  food  or  drink,  but  for  smoke.  Shall  the  deacons 
and  class-leaders  and  vestrymen  of  the  only  New  England  river 
valley  find  fault  with  these  untrained  and  unchristianized  Indians 


"THERE  IS  MEXICO." 


»3 


for  making  their  soil  to  bring  forth  only  one  article,  when  they  are 
in  the  same  condemnation  ? 

And  worse — for  this  maguey  plant  is  useful  for  many  things, 
though  it  has  one  failing :  the  tobacco-plant  is  useful  for  nothing. 
They  use  its  leaves  for  all  sorts  of  purposes  :  twine  and  paper,  even 
needle  and  thread,  roof  and  shelter.  It  is  the  good  demon  of  the 
Aztec  house.  Though  it  does  get  drunk  once  in  eight  years,  it  is 
sober  all  the  rest  of  the  time.  Our  maguey  is  nothing  if  not  nar- 
cotizing. True  Christianity  will,  we  trust,  cure  that  defect,  and 
make  Mexico  and  New  England  and  the  West,  in  its  abuse  of 
barley  and  rye,  alike  free  from  the  perversion  of  the  gifts  of  God 
to  our  own  unrighteousness. 

The  train  sweeps  round  the  mountain  range  of  P.  and  I.,  and 
we  come  to  their  western  side.  Puebla  is  on  the  east  of  them. 
The  sun  pours  a  flood  of  glory  over  yet  more  western  summits. 
Our  friend  quietly  says,  "There  is  Mexico." 

It  does  not  take  long  to  look  and  admire.  It  lies  under  the 
blaze,  a  dim  mass  of  points  of  fire.  Its  surroundings  overcome 
us  with  their  grandeur.  Twelve  miles  away,  where  he  spoke  that 
word,  is  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  lake  on  whose  western  end 
the  city  is  situated.  The  brown  spurs  of  Iztaccihuatl  lie  close  to 
the  edge  of  the  lake.  The  land  about  it  is  almost  on  a  level  with 
it ;  salt  marshes,  in  which  the  white  alkali  makes  them  look  like 
snow.  All  round  the  farther  sides  of  the  lake  black  mountains 
stand.  Other  lakes  lie  hidden  from  our  eyes  about  their  bases. 
The  water  flashes  in  the  setting  sun. 

Up  these  lowest  spurs  close  beside  us  Cortez  climbed  and  saw 
the  wondrous  valley  and  its  waters,  prairies,  hills,  purple  and  snow 
mountains,  and  resplendent  city,  and  he  vowed  that  it  should  be 
subdued  to  the  Cross.  With  fearful  expenditure  of  blood  he  accom- 
plished  his  purpose,  and  gave  it  a  bloody  cross,  instead  of  bloody 
sacrifice  of  human  life.  Looking  from  a  like  point  out  of  this  car 
window,  the  product  itself  of  true  Christianity,  may  we  not  imitate 
Cortez,  and  pledge  the  city  that  lieth  like  the  very  mount  of  God, 
in  magnificence  unequaled  by  any  capital  of  earth,  and  all  the  sur- 


34  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

rounding  region,  not  to  a  persecuting  and  debilitating  Christianity, 
but  to  one  that  comes  without  a  sword,  comes  with  an  open  Bible,  a 
joyful  experience,  a  holy  life,  education,  comfort,  refinement  for  all, 
the  true  Cross  and  Church  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  created 
this  scene  and  its  inhabitants  for  His  own  praise  and  glory?  May 
they  soon  all  glorify  Him  ! 

Soon  Otumba  appears,  where  Cortez  fought  his  greatest  fight, 
without  a  gun,  or  pistol,  or  horse,  reduced  with  a  score  of  reckless 
followers  to  the  level  of  his  foes.  As  he  debouched  through  yonder 
western  hills  on  this  broad  plain,  after  the  Noche  Triste,  he  met  here 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  the  Aztecs  in  solid  rank.  Cutting  his  way 
through  till  his  arm  and  sword  failed,  seeing  the  palanquin  of  the 
chief,  rushing  for  it,  and  striking  him  dead,  he  sends  a  panic  into  the 
multitude,  who  let  him  through  to  these  lower  spurs  round  which 
we  have  just  run,  on  whose  farther  side,  looking  toward  Puebla,  or 
Cholula  then,  dwelt  his  faithful  allies,  the  Tlascalans,  who  received 
him,  and  helped  him  organize  a  victory  that  has  continued  until 
now. 

Not  far  from  Otumba  stand  forth  two  pyramids  of  earth,  like 
those  of  Cholula,  called  the  Sun  and  Moon,  each  several  hundred 
feet  square  and  high,  on  a  geometric  line  with  each  other  as  per- 
fect as  a  Hoosac  Tunnel  engineer  could  have  carved  them,  each 
now  surmounted  with  a  tiny  chapel,  emblem  of  their  conversion  to 
the  Roman  faith.  They  are  the  only  Aztec  remains  of  mark  in  all 
the  valley;  and  they  are  probably  Toltec,  an  ante-Aztec  race,  to 
which  that  warlike  people  were  indebted  for  all  their  arts  and  re 
finements,  perhaps  also  for  their  horrid  barbarities  of  worship. 

Guadalupe  now  appears  on  the  right,  a  sierra  not  three  miles 
from  the  city,  the  most  sacred  mountain  of  Mexico  or  America, 
and  the  most  profane.  A  via  sacra  ran  from  it  to  the  town,  on 
which  the  penitent  myriads  walked  upon  their  knees.  Now  our 
train  rushes  along  it,  regardless  of  shrines  and  kneelers  and  other 
vanities  of  faith.  The  worshipers  have  accepted  the  situation,  and 
ride  to  and  from  the  favorite  seat  of  their  goddess  in  the  railway 
car,  even  as  pilgrimages   are  now  going  on  over  Europe  in  first 


IN  THE  AZTEC  CAPITAL.  85 

and  third  class  trains.  The  times  change,  and  we  change  with 
them. 

The  city  glitters  in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun.  Its  last  beams 
are  gathering  on  the  peaks  of  the  silent  Alps  that  stand  forth  on 
our  eastern  sky,  as  they  had  stood  on  the  western  when  at  Puebla. 
We  have  run  clear  round  them.  They  change  their  light  to  color, 
grow  rosy  in  that  flush  sent  from  between  the  saws  of  Ajusco  on 
the  west,  and  then  turn  to  the  awful  white  of  death. 

Ere  that  the  Hotel  Gillow  has  welcomed  us  to  its  comfortable 
chambers,  and  we  are  housed  like  Cortez  in  the  Aztec  capital. 


BOOK    II. 

IN  AND  AROUND  THE  CAPITAL. 


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HOTEL    GILLOW. 


89 


I. 

FIRST  WEEK  IN  THE    CAPITAL 

Hotel  Gillow. — Cost  of  Living. — The  Climate. — Lottery-ticket  Venders. — First 
Sabbath. — First  Protestant  Church. — A  Praise  Meeting. — State  of  the  Work. 
— The  Week  of  Prayer. 

Mexico  begins  well,  though  perhaps  a  good  beginning  may  re- 
sult in  a  bad  ending.  It  was  Saturday  evening,  at  setting  of  the 
sun,  that  we  landed  at  the  Buena  Vista  station,  just  outside  the 
city.  The  last  rays  had  left  the  top  of  Popocatepetl,  but  were 
lingering  yet  in  a  rosy  cloud  above  the  snowy  deadness  of  Iztacci- 
huatl.  These  two  giant  guardsmen  are  set  to  watch  this  lovely  val- 
ley that  circles  beneath  them,  a  girdle  of  hundreds  of  miles,  itself 
encircled  with  a  lower  but  not  inferior  range  of  mountains.  The 
drive  into  the  city  is  through  a  long  avenue  of  green  trees,  past  the 
'  Alameda,  or  park,  half  a  mile  square,  well  crowded  with  trees  in 
their  best  June  apparel,  clown  the  streets  of  San  Francisco  and 
Profesa,  round  the  corner  of  the  elegant  Church  of  the  Profesa, 
into  the  Hotel  Gillow,  a  new  hotel  built  on  a  part  of  the  convent 
property  belonging  to  the  Church  of  the  Profesa,  and  confiscated  ; 
but  in  this  case  built  upon  by  the  gentleman  whose  name  it  bears, 
whose  son  is  a  priest  of  this  convent,  who  manages,  if  he  does  not 
own,  the  building,  and  who  thus  assists  in  desecrating  a  portion  of 
the  estates  of  the  Church. 

If  a  clergyman  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  may  build,  or 
control,  and  even  give  his  family  name  to  a  hotel  on  sacred  soil, 
a  clergyman  of  the  Holy  Catholic  Church  may  occupy  a  room  in 
it  without  danger  of  profaning  either  it,  or  himself,  or  his  church, 
or  his  landlord.  So  I  enter  a  somewhat  too  sumptuous  apartment 
for  my  means  or  my  church.  Yet,  as  it  is  the  only  one  opening  on 
the  street,  I  take  it  till  a  less  ornate  one  is  vacated. 


,,o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

That  is  already  done,  and  this  writing  is  in  a  square  and  hand- 
some parlor,  for  which  the  sum  of  forty  dollars  a  month  is  paid  ; 
too  costly  for  a  long  stay,  but  as  Methodist  preachers  never  con- 
tinue in  one  stay,  it  may  answer  for  a  temporary  sojourn. 

Yet,  costly  as  it  is  in  this  city,  it  is  less  than  half,  if  not  less 
than  a  third,  what  a  like  apartment  could  be  rented  for  in  a  city 
of  the  States.  With  board  at  its  fonda,  or  restaurant,  at  thirty-five 
dollars  a  month — four  meals  a  day  if  you  wish,  and  all  you  ask  for 
at  each  meal — the  whole  expense  is  less  than  two  dollars  and  a 
half  a  day,  better  for  room  and  food  than  could  be  got  in  New 
York  for  four  dollars  a  day.  This  may  be  reduced  a  little,  yet  not 
much.  Board  can  not  be  much  less,  this  ranging  only  at  about 
one  dollar  a  day  ;  but  rooms,  unfurnished,  may  be  had  for  a  fourth 
of  this  amount,  and  furnished,  if  you  take  one  looking  on  a  court 
instead  of  the  street,  in  any  of  the  hotels,  for  about  one-half.  In 
this  hotel  they  are  twenty-five  dollars  ;  very  clever  rooms,  too. 

This  long  preamble  is  given  for  two  reasons:  first,  to  give  you 
assurance  of  the  practical  nature  of  our  mind,  so  that  any  fantasies 
of  eulogy  over  Mexico  and  its  environs  into  which  we  may  subse- 
quently fly  may  be  considered  exceptional,  and  not  normal ;  and, 
second  and  chief,  that  any  of  our  ice-bound,  snow- driven,  sleet- 
covered,  cold -racked,  and  so -on -suffering  friends  of  the  North, 
who  may  have  made  more  money  than  they  are  willing  to  give  the 
Church,  though  not  more  than  they  ought  to  give,  may  know  where 
to  come  and  spend  it  and  the  winter. 

It  is  a  paradise  of  climates.  The  air  is  just  right  every  day. 
A  light  cape  is  all  you  want  across  your  shoulders,  and  that  is  to 
be  worn  in  the  house  rather  than  out-of-doors,  for  the  houses  are 
cooler  than  the  street.  Flowers  and  fruits  are  everywhere,  and 
very  excellent  in  taste  and  looks.  Great  bouquets  of  violets  and 
other  delights,  packed  in  the  mechanical  French  fashion,  learned, 
it  is  said,  from  the  French,  and  improved  on  by  the  Aztec,  are 
offered  you  for  a  York  shilling  and  upward.  The  flower-girls 
stand  or  sit  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  sometimes  old  men  and 
women,  with  their  big  and  little  bouquets  on  the  sidewalk  about 


L  O  TTER  i "-  TICKE  T   I ENDERS. 


91 


them.  Strawberries,  blackberries,  and  green  peas  are  cheap  and 
good,  blackberries  fifteen  cents  a  quart,  and  others  in  proportion, 
while  bananas  and  oranges,  and 
the  fruits  less  familiar  to  us,  are 
piled  up  on  the  table  and  forced 
upon  a  gorged  appetite. 

My  windows  stand  open  as  I 
write,  and  the  street  cries  come 
up  into  my  ears.  If  I  knew 
Spanish  I  might  perhaps  inter- 
pret them,  but  since,  although  I 
know  English,  I  never  can  un- 
derstand the  street  cries  of  New 
York,  I  fear  all  the  Spanish  I 
can  ever  learn  will  not  give  me 
the  inside  of  the  calls  of  the 
street.  I  suppose  this  I  hear 
the  most  frequently  is  from 
the  lottery-ticket  venders,  who  Mexican  flower-girl. 

stand  along  the  sidewalks,  and  are  the  most  numerous  class  of 
operators  in  the  city.  They  call  the  various  lotteries  the  holiest 
names  :  Divina  Providencia,  Virgin  of  Guadalupe,  St.  Joseph,  The 
Holy  Spirit,  The  Trinity,  Purissima  Concepcion,  and  such  like. 
The  most  popular  of  these  is  that  of  the  Virgin  of  Guadalupe. 
The  venders  wear  a  badge  bearing  their  number,  and  for  a  medio, 
or  six  and  a  quarter  cents,  you  can  run  the  risk  of  getting  or  losing 
from  one  to  ten  thousand  pesos,  or  dollars.  These  lotteries  are 
largely  operated  by  the  Church,  and  are  one  of  its  sources  of  in- 
come. The  sale  of  indulgences  is  another.  The  right  hand  and 
the  left  rob  in  the  name  of  God,  feeding  the  poor  victims  with  false 
hopes  of  a  fortune  in  this  life,  and  with  falser  hopes  of  a  fortune, 
thus  acquired,  in  the  life  to  come. 

The  morning  after  my  arrival  opened,  as  every  morning  does 
here,  bright,  mild,  charming.  The  bells  rang  merrily,  and  my 
spirits  were   in  corresponding  mood.     The  Church  of  Jesus  drew 


,,_.  t  OCR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

my  steps  to  its  door.  This  church  worships  in  a  chapel  of  the 
old  Church  of  San  Francisco.  You  pass  through  a  garden  full  of 
beautiful  shrubs  and  flowers  in  full  bloom  and  leaf,  making  the 
courts  of  the  house  of  the  Lord  fragrant  with  these  lovely  creations 
of  the  Lord.  This  garden  is  about  thirty  feet  wide  by  a  hundred 
long.  Our  Lord  lay  in  a  garden  of  like  sweets.  Here  he  dwells 
to-day.  And  as  we  pass  through  we  breathe  that  beautiful  thought, 
from  one  whose  pen  we  hope  again  to  see  serving  the  Lord  : 

"And  as  Thy  rocky  tomb 
Was  in  a  garden  fair, 
Where  round  about  stood  flowers  in  bloom, 
To  sweeten  all  the  air, 

"  So  in  my  heart  of  stone 
I  sepulchre  Thy  death, 
While  thoughts  of  Thee,  like,  roses'  bloom, 
Bring  sweetness  in  their  breath." 

The  chapel  we  enter  on  the  side  near  its  lower  end.  It  is  high 
arched,  prettily  frescoed  about  the  altar,  and  is  seated  with  chairs 
for  about  four  hundred.  It  is  nearly  full.  The  worshipers  are 
chiefly  native,  not  over  ten  or  fifteen  Americans  being  present. 
They  are  dressed  mostly  with  some  attempt  at  cleanliness,  their 
garb  of  the  week  being  changed  for  the  Sabbath.  A  few  are  in 
the  soiled  clothes  of  their  daily  toil.  They  are  dark-colored,  In- 
dian in  whole  or  largely,  and  all  sit  as  promiscuously  as  they  ought 
to  do  in  more  enlightened  congregations.  They  are  singing  "lus- 
tily." John  Wesley  would  have  declared  that  they  kept  that  word 
in  his  Discipline.  They  all  sing,  and  sing  with  all  their  might. 
I  never  heard  camp -meeting  excel  them  in  this  heartiness  and 
gusto.  The  words  were  simple  and  sweet,  and  the  tunes  likewise. 
None  of  them  were  familiar  till  the  last  one,  in  which  I  detected 
an  air  I  had  known,  and,  after  a  little,  found  it  was, "I'm  a  pilgrim, 
I'm  a  stranger."  I  give  you  a  verse  of  this.  You  can  all  sing  it, 
and  will  find  it  not  difficult  to  translate.  It  begins,  "I  am  going 
to  heaven— I  am  a  wanderer— to  live  eternally  with  Jesus  :" 


SINGING  AND  PRAYING.  93 

"  Voy  al  cielo,  soy  peregrino, 

Vivere  eternamente  con  Jesus. 
El  me  abrio  ya  veraz  camino 
Cuando  murio  por  nosotros  en  ]a  crus. 

CORO. 

"  Voy  el  cielo,  soy  peregrino, 

Vivere  eternamente  con  Jesus."* 

They  sung  some  four  or  five  times,  as  often  as  in  an  American 
social  or  prayer  meeting,  intermingling  their  hymns  with  prayers 
read  by  the  minister  from  a  small  pamphlet,  with  readings  from  the 
Old  and  the  New  Testament  Scriptures,  four  Psalms,  and  a  short, 
earnest  sermon  on  The  Wise  Men — a  recognition  of  the  calendar 
of  the  Romish  Church,  which  makes  this  the  Sabbath  of  the  Epiph- 
any. The  two  ministers  who  officiated  were  dressed  in  white 
robes ;  one  of  them  was  white,  and  one  an  Indian.  That  was  a 
good  sight,  these  two  brethren  of  diverse  colors  associated  in  this 
service.  When  shall  the  like  be  formally  established  in  our  more 
Christian  America?  I  was  gratified  above  my  expectations  at  the 
spectacle. 

The  bedizened  altar  furniture  was  gone,  and  an  open  Bible  oc- 
cupied the  place  of  the  idolatrous  host.  Above  it,  in  a  circlet  of 
immortelles  in  silver  letters,  was  the  name  of  JESUS.  The  service 
of  song  was  full  of  Him.  The  prayers,  lessons,  and  sermon  were 
alike  possessed. 

Whatever  the  ultimate  form  of  this  movement,  it  undoubtedly 
has  the  right  beginning,  Jesus  Christ  Himself  being  the  chief  cor- 
ner-stone. It  needs  direction,  organization,  education  ;  but,  as  an 
outburst  against  a  system  which  has  so  long  suppressed  this  vital- 

"  I  am  going  to  heaven,  I  am  a  stranger, 
To  live  eternally  with  Christ. 
He  opened  me  the  true  way 

When  He  died  for  us  upon  the  cross." 

CHORUS. 

"  I  am  going  to  heaven,  I  am  a  stranger, 
To  live  eternally  with  Christ." 

7 


94 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


FIRST  PROTESTANT   CHURCH. 


ity,  it  is  divine.  The  Virgin  is  not  here.  The  Son  of  God  is  alone, 
as  becomes  His  nature  and  work.  It  is  a  protest  against  that  false 
mediation  and  intercession.  He  has  taken  the  work  into  His  own 
hands.     They  sing  His  praises,  they  implore  His  salvation. 

It  is  noticeable,  too,  as  an  incident  of  this  movement,  that  they 
all  are  so  full  of  song.  The  Roman  Catholic  Church  does  not 
cultivate  or  allow  in  its  service  congregational  singing.  It  is  as 
gay  of  plumage  as  tropical  birds,  and  as  songless.  A  trained  choir 
gives  elaborate  masses  and  compositions  with  wonderful  power  in 
a  few  great  centres  of  its  worship,  but  its  people  do  not  sing. 
These  converts  are  full  of  song. 

It  was  delightful  to  taste  the  freshness  of  this  spring  of  salvation, 
breaking  forth  from  this  long-parched  ground.  It  was  like  Elijah's 
little  cloud  brooding  smilingly  over  a  land  from  which  the  rain  of 


yTHE    WEEK  OF  PRAYER.  95 

grace  had  been  shut  off,  not  merely  for  three  years  and  six  months, 
but  for  three  centuries  and  a  half.  May  it  soon  burst  in  blessings 
over  all  the  land  ! 

I  stepped  over  last  evening  to  a  chapel  opposite  my  hotel,  where 
one  of  these  congregations  was  holding  service  in  connection  with 
the  Week  of  Prayer.  It  was  after  nine,  and  the  regular  meeting 
had  closed.  But  there  stood  a  group  of  twenty  or  so  in  the  upper 
corner,  "going  it,"  like  a  corner  after  a  revival  meeting,  in  these 
same  songs  of  Zion.  Their  leader  appeared  to  be  a  young  brother 
of  twenty  (the  regular  pastor  was  not  present),  and  they  all  put  in 
with  all  their  heart  and  voice,  a  few  sitting  about  on  the  bench- 
es enjoying  the  exercise.  It  was  so  perfectly  Methodistic  that  I 
wished  to  go  forward  and  tell  them  it  seemed  just  like  home. 
But  a  slight  difficulty,  somewhat  like  that  which  troubled  Zacha- 
rias  on  one  occasion,  and  which  would  last  about  as  long  if  I  staid 
here,  prevented  my  making  myself  known  and  helping  on  the  mel- 
ody. I  might  have  sung,  however,  for  the  tune  I  had  heard  the 
Sunday  before,  and  the  words  I  could  pronounce,  if  not  translate. 
The  favorite  hymn,  which  both  congregations  sing  with  great  gusto, 
has  this  for  its  chorus  : 

"  No  os  detengais,  no  os  detengais, 
Nunca,  nunca,  nunca  ; 
Christo  por  salvanos  dio 
,  Su  sangre  cuando  El  murio."* 

The  way  they  bring  out  the  "  Nunca,  nunca,  nunca,"  is  a  lesson 
to  many  a  languid  and  fashionable  quartette  and  choir,  a  feeble- 
ness that  has  replaced  and  half  destroyed  our  hymnal  vitality.  A 
half-dozen,  who  sing  only  a  trifle  better  than  the  congregation,  take 
away  its  office.  Let  these  Mexican  Christians  lead  them  back  into 
the  divine  way.     They  allowed  parts  to  be  sung  by  two  or  three 

"Do  not  detain  us,  do  not  detain  us, 
Never,  never,  never ; 
Christ  for  our  salvation  gave 
His  blood  when  He  died." 


o6  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

voices  at  San  Francisco,  and  the  whole  congregation  joined  in 
the  chorus.  It  was  an  inspiration  and  a  lesson  to  our  degenerate 
worshipers. 

No  one  will  fail  to  recognize  the  spirituality  and  scripturality  of 
these  outbursts  of  grace  in  their  long-oppressed  souls.  It  is  of  the 
Lord,  and,  like  all  His  doings,  is  directly  and  vitally  antagonistic  to 
the  prevailing  superstition.  That  prays  to  the  Virgin  ;  this  to  Je- 
sus. That  never  allows  the  Bible  to  be  read  or  heard  of;  this 
makes  the  reading  of  the  Word  of  God  a  prolonged  portion  of  the 
service.  That  suppresses  the  singing  of  the  people ;  this  power- 
fully employs  that  service  of  Christ.  That  has  the  prayers  mut- 
tered in  an  unknown  tongue ;  this  repeats  them  jointly  with  the 
congregation  in  their  own  language.  That  has  no  sermon  in  this 
country,  or  very  rarely  ;  this  puts  the  pulpit  and  its  teachings  as  a 
part  of  every  service. 

I  should  judge  that  regular  training,  visiting,  and  educating  were 
needed,  that  the  work  requires  the  culture,  system,  and  force  of  a 
regular  Church  order ;  but  I  hope  no  forms  or  forces  will  ever  re- 
pel, but  only  increase,  the  ardor  and  joy  which  inspired  the  hearts 
of  these  worshipers  on  that  glad  morning  of  the  New-year. 

The  afternoon  was  spent  in  an  English  service,  the  second  in 
that  language  ever  held  in  this  city.  Rev.  Dr.  Cooper,  of  Chicago, 
conducted  it.  It  was  in  a  private  house.  He  is  an  able  and  expe- 
rienced divine,  and  his  word  that  day  was  sweet  unto  the  taste  of 
the  little  company  gathered  in  that  upper  room,  a  handful  of  seed 
on  the  top  of  this  mountain-land,  the  fruit  whereof  shall  yet  shake 
like  Lebanon. 

A  suggestion  was  made  at  that  service  that  the  Week  of  Prayer 
be  observed  in  this  city.  It  was  a  novelty,  surely,  that  this  Week 
of  Prayer  should  be  kept  in  this  lately  most  hostile  town,  where 
five  years  ago  one  could  have  hardly  kept  erect  when  the  proces- 
sion of  the  Holy  Ghost  passed  through  the  streets  without  endan- 
gering his  head. 

But  a  change  has  come.  The  Presbyterian  missionary,  Rev.  Mr. 
Phillips,  opened  his  parlors,  and  an  Episcopalian,  a  Methodist,  a 


LABORERS  IN  THE    VINEYARD.  97 

Congregational,  and  a  Presbyterian  minister  joined  with  a  few  lay- 
men and  sisters  in  offering  daily  prayer,  according  to  the  programme 
set  forth  by  the  Evangelical  Alliance.  It  was  good  to  be  there  day 
by  day,  to  hear  the  songs  of  Zion  in  a  strange  land,  to  feel  that  we 
stood  at  the  fountain-head  of  this  river  of  life  which  is  breaking; 
forth  here  at  the  touch  of  God  for  the  cleansing  of  this  nation. 

The  Congregational  minister  is  Rev.  Mr.  Parks,  sent  out  by  the 
British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society  to  scatter  that  divine  seed  over 
this  barren  soil.  He  is  a  sower  going  forth  to  sow.  He  finds  all 
sorts  of  soils.  One  colporteur  in  a  three  months'  tour  could  not 
sell  a  single  Bible.  He  contrived  to  give  away  a  few  hundreds. 
Another  was  beaten  and  driven  out  of  Puebla,  the  second  city  of 
the  country.  Others  find  soil  less  rocky  and  less  hardened  by  the 
wayside  treacling  of  centuries  of  Bible  hatred,  and  some  good  soil 
is  discovered,  as  these  new  movements  show,  which  is  yielding  fruit 
already — some  thirty,  some  sixty,  and  some  a  hundred  fold. 

Among  those  that  attended  these  little  meetings  was  Mr.  Pethe- 
rick,  a  devoted  Wesleyan,  and  Colonel  Rhett,  a  Confederate  officer, 
in  command  for  a  time  of  the  defenses  of  Richmond,  who,  though 
he  perhaps  can  not  yet  see  that  slavery  is  a  sin,  being  a  South 
Carolinian  (which  people,  like  their  kin  in  Massachusetts,  never 
change),  still  is  willing  to  let  that  system  "go,"  and  is  devoting 
himself  with  a  praiseworthy  zeal  to  general  Christian  activity. 

This  Gospel  Week  will  not  be  forgotten  in  the  history  of  the 
Church  in  Mexico.  It  has  shown  to  every  foe  of  our  Christ  that 
the  charge  they  may  make  against  the  division  of  Protestant  Chris- 
tianity is  not  true.  Most  of  its  leading  bodies  have  here  harmoni- 
ously sung  and  spoken  and  prayed.  They  are  a  unit  in  aim  and 
endeavor,  in  spirit  and  in  life.  They  are  less  separated  than  the 
orders  of  the  Romish  Church;  Jesuit  and  Carmelite,  Benedictine 
and  Franciscan,  being  more  hostile  to  each  other  than  any  of  our 
American  Churches.  This  Union  Week  foretells  the  Union  Year 
and  Union  Age  of  the  Church  in  these  United  States  of  Mexico. 
May  it  be  more  and  more  one  in  faith,  in  work,  in  reward,  here  and 
over  all  the  world  ! 


o8 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


II. 
FROM  THE  CHURCH  TOT. 

First  Attempt  and  Failure. — At  it  again. — The  Southern  Outlook. — Popocate- 
petl and  I/taccihuatl. — Cherubusco. — Chapultepec. — Guadalupe. — The  patron 
Saint  of  the  Country. — Round  the  Circle. 

This  is  the  highest  of  all  the  man-built  places  from  whence  I 
have  ever  tried  to  talk.  I  am  sitting  on  the  top  of  the  finest  church 
in  this  city,  except  the  cathedral — that  of  the  Profesa.  It  adjoins 
my  hotel,  and  is  easily  accessible  from  the  azatea,  or  flat  roof,  of 
that  building.  The  sun  is  burning  his  way  down  the  western  sky, 
setting  masses  of  clouds  on  fire  with  his  effulgence. 

Two  little  girls,  children  of  my  landlady,  have  led  me  hither,  and 
they  are  woefully  frightened  at  a  man  in  the  belfry  fixing  the  bells. 
In  broken  English,  the  older  of  the  two  makes  known  her  fears, 
'•  Will  he  make  nothing  of  me?"  she  cries.  I  relieve  her,  and  soon 
she  says  her  little  sister  calls  her  a  "  false  fool "  for  being  so  alarmed. 

Though  the  place  is  excellent  for  composition,  the  children  keep 
me  so  intent  upon  their  perilous  pranks  that  I  have  no  leisure  for 
sketching.  And  so  I  sit  and  see  the  sun  roll  down  behind  Ajusca, 
the  highest  of  the  western  hills,  and  behold  the  reflex  glory  on  the 
white  brows  of  the  two  south-eastern  volcanoes,  with  their  terrible 
names,  flushed  with  the  opposing  sun,  as  the  brow  of  death  glows 
with  the  light  from  the  sun  beyond  the  vail. 

The  sun  gone,  the  glory  is  gone  ;  no  twilight  lingers  here,  as  win- 
some as  a  morning  nap.  Abrupt  beginnings  and  abrupt  endings 
are  characteristics  of  clime  and  people,  with  very  gay  and  gracious 
interludes.  The  air  grows  chill  as  the  sky  grows  dark,  and  the 
children  and  I  climb  the  chancel  roof,  peep  into  the  dome,  and 
clown  into  the  church  ;  that  is,  I  do  ;  they  are  too  timid  or  too  well 


SIGHTS  AND  SOUNDS.  99 

trained.  All  is  dark  and  silent  save  the  ghastly  pictures  on  the 
roof  of  the  dome,  which  are  silent  but  not  dark.  We  slide  down 
the  smooth  sides  of  that  chancel  roof,  scamper  along  on  the  broad- 
backed  ridge  of  the  nave  ;  that  is,  they  do,  not  I  ;  alas  !  for  this 
proof  of  a  vanished  childhood,  and  get  ourselves  upon  our  own 
roof,  which  is  attached  to  that  of  the  hotel,  and  into  our  own  rooms. 
Our  bird's-eye  view,  though  viewed  like  all  such  views  of  real  birds, 
stays,  like  theirs,  undescribed. 

The  easel  is  set  up  again  at  the  same  spot.  It  is  morning  now. 
The  sun  is  up  these  two  hours,  and  pours  a  strong  flood  of  warmth 
and  light  on  this  page.  The  noise  of  the  street  carts  comes  muf- 
fled up  to  this  house-top.  The  morning  trumpet-clang  and  drum- 
beat of  the  soldiers  mingle  with  them,  and  rise  above  them,  clear 
and  steady,  a  sign  that  this  government  is  more  military  yet  than 
civil.  Frequent  bells  put  in  their  heavy  musical  notes,  some- 
times rapid  ;  there  is  one  now  striking  the  half-seconds,  sometimes 
slower,  but  all  alike  calling  a  heedless  city  to  an  almost  voiceless 
service. 

The  birds  send  up  their  pretty  chatterings  among  the  bells,  the 
trumpets,  and  the  rattling  carts,  those  true  babes  in  the  wood,  and 
babes  in  nature,  whose  very  songs  are  the  laugh  of  childhood  thread- 
ing the  graver  tones  of  maturer  nature.  How  deliciously  their 
treble  laugh  breaks  on  the  ear  !  Do  you  not  wish  you  could  hear 
them,  poor  ice-bound  citizens  of  the  Arctic  North? 

This  is  a  royal  place  to  see  this  royal  city.  Never  had  a  town 
such  grand  environment.  Athens  has  mountains  and  sea,  but 
scanty  plains.  Rome,  plains,  but  no  water,  and  low-browed  hills. 
Jerusalem,  mountains,  but  no  plains  nor  sea.  Modern  cities  are 
without  the  least  trace  of  scenic  loveliness.  London,  Paris,  New 
York,  Philadelphia,  Chicago,  New  Orleans,  and  Berlin,  how  cheap 
their  panorama!  It  is  a  map  and  not  a  picture  that  one  draws 
when  he  paints  these  capitals.  Boston  and  Baltimore  make  a  slight 
approach  to  hill  effects,  but  only  a  hundred  feet  high  are  their 
mountains,  and  no  plains  to  set  off  even  these. 

Took  here  ;  turn  your  eye  (and  body  too,  or  you  will  leave  your 


IOO  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

head  on  this  slippery  roof-side),  and  take  in  this  scene.  Every- 
where a  green  valley,  everywhere  dahlia  hills — the  true  dahlia — 
that  deep  purple  sliding  into  black,  and  yet  never  losing  its  royal 
bloom,  the  finest  color  of  all  for  the  garments  of  men  and  women, 
us  well  as  for  Greek  and  Aztec  mountains. 

I  am  now  looking  southward  ;  so  may  you.  The  city  lies  all 
about  us,  its  limits  being  equidistant  in  all  directions.  Its  flat  roofs 
extend  for  a  mile,  domed  twice  or  thrice  with  spacious  churches. 
Then  comes  a  flat  gray  field  for  several  miles :  it  is  probably  more 
than  ten  miles,  but  distances  are  as  deceitful  as  is  every  thing  else 
in  this- clime.  It  is  sprinkled  with  trees,  especially  to  the  west,  and 
at  its  farther  termination.  To  its  right,  or  westward,  the  trees  grow 
denser,  and  evidently  line  thoroughfares  and  fill  gardens.  A  vil- 
lage glistens  under  the  hills  in  which  it  is  ending.  Then  comes  a 
mass  of  dark  and  rugged  peaks,  soft  in  their  ruggedness,  and  light 
in  their  darkness,  the  fields  creeping  well  up  their  sides,  and  some- 
times, but  rarely,  climbing  on  and  over  their  heads. 

This  southern  route  was  the  one  chosen  by  Cortez  and  Scott  for 
entering  the  town.  Between  the  two  snow  volcanoes  they  came 
over  a  lofty  pass,  around  the  western  edge  of  that  broad,  flash- 
ing lake,  by  the  side  of  the  canal  that  you  see  stretching  out, 
lined  with  trees  and  floating  gardens.  Along  well-built  causeways, 
amidst  a  frightened  mass  of  living  people,  the  invaders  marched. 
Cortez  had  more  than  one  bloody  fight  on  that  passway  ;  and  Scott 
made  a  rough  lava  height  and  Cherubusco,  a  not  wide  plain,  famous 
with  his  victories.  There,  too,  you  note  a  purple  hill,  two  hundred 
feet  high,  where  the  Aztec  priests  kindled  the  sacred  fire  at  the 
close  of  each  half  century.  They  thought  the  world  had  come  to 
an  end.  Light  was  never  to  come  again  ;  everywhere  it  was  ex- 
tinguished. The  people  march  in  solemn  procession  from  the  city 
to  this  hill;  the  priests  take  the  chosen  human  victim  to  its  sum- 
mit. His  heart  is  extracted.  A  new  flame  is  kindled  upon  it. 
It  is  transmitted  to  waiting  torches,  and  sent  through  the  whole  na- 
tion, re-illumining  the  face  of  society,  and  keeping  fresh  the  hope 
and  heart  of  man.    One  can  hardly  fancy  that  low  and  silent,  and 


CHAPULTEPEC. 


IOI 


shrubless  peak  to  have  been  so  long  the  scene  of  such  a  sad  and 
memorable  festival. 

Keep  your  eye  and  head  moving  westward,  and  you  see  the  same 
city,  landscape  beyond,  and  tall  hills  in  the  rear.  Almost  clue  west 
lies  Chapultepec,  the  favorite  haunt  of  the  rulers  of  this  people  from 


i, 


mate* 


RH 


CHAPULTEPEC. 


Montezuma  to  Juarez,  a  superb  park,  palace,  and  picture.  It  is  a 
fortress  and  a  garden,  a  sort  of  Windsor  Castle  set  down  with  its 
hill-top,  forests,  and  views,  three  miles  from  London  town.  It  de- 
serves a  visit  and  a  page  of  its  own,  and  so  we  now  swing  round 
the  circle,  leaving  its  yellow  walls,  a  little  haughty  in  their  frowning 
at  our  presumption  to  come  and  go  without  more  obeisance. 

On  getting  round  toward  the  north,  the  girdle  of  nearer  hills 
dips  clown,  giving  glimpses  of  mountains  beyond.  The  level  lands 
stretch  out  farther,  fifteen  and  twenty  miles,  before  the  passes  are 


102  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

touched.  The  country  is  full  of  trees,  which  are  also  full  of  green- 
ness. Church  towers  peer  above  their  tops,  and  white  and  drab 
specks  appear  among  the  interstices,  the  proofs  that  this  wide  area 
has  villages  amidst  its  verdure. 

To  the  right  still,  the  landscape  narrows  to  its  closest  limits,  and 
the  sierra  of  Guadalupe  comes  within  three  or  four  miles  of  the 
town.  It  is  a  range  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  long,  that  casts  its  near- 
est and  highest  battlements  over  against  the  city.  It  is  woodless, 
bright,  of  purple  bloom,  without  a  shady  retreat,  save  such  as  re- 
cesses may  give. 

At  its  easternmost  edge,  just  where  it  drops  into  the  plains  near- 
est the  city,  you  notice  several  domes  and  towers  massed  together. 
That  is  the  group  of  temples  dedicated  to  the  Virgin  of  Guadalupe, 
the  most  famous,  popular,  and  powerful  of  all  the  virgins  of  Amer- 
ica, if  not  of  the  Church  that  worships  her.  That  spot  is  a  curi- 
ous evidence  of  the  manner  in  which  Romanism  adapts  itself  to 
the  people  it  governs.  The  Indians  were  sullen  and  unsubdued 
after  Cortez  had  conquered  their  nation.  They  were  a  dangerous 
element,  being,  like  the  subjects  of  the  East  India  Company,  a  thou- 
sand to  one  more  numerous  than  their  rulers.  How  shall  they  be 
subdued  ?  Their  priests  and  worship  were  gone,  but  not  their  faith 
in  both. 

They  had  a  seat  of  worship  in  this  spot.  An  Indian  coming 
over  the  mountains,  seeking  for  a  priest  at  a  church  built  by  Cor- 
tez, a  mile  or  so  from  its  base,  is  met  by  the  Virgin,  who  tells  him 
to  build  a  church  to  her  in  that  spot.  He  flees  affrighted  to  the 
priest,  and  tells  his  tale.  It  is  not  idle  words  to  not  empty  ears, 
though  it  is  so  assumed.  He  is  repulsed  by  the  priest,  meets  her 
twice  again,  asks  a  sign,  has  his  soiled  blanket  filled  by  her  hands 
with  flowers  from  these  barren  and  burning  rocks,  which  when 
poured  out  at  the  feet  of  the  incredulous  archbishop  are  no  more 

flowers,  but 

"  A  fair  maiden  clothed  with  celestial  grace," 

even  the  maiden  mother  herself.  Her  flowers  had  changed  to  a 
flowery  Madonna,  with  a  bud  of  a  boy  in  her  arms,  as  on  a  branch. 


o 
X 

s 

X 

o 
*j 

n 

c 

> 

5 

-3 

w 


1  •-/  /,>  i 


THE   VIRGIN  OF  GUADALUTE.  103 

If  you  doubt  this  they  will  show  you  the  greasy  blanket  with  her 
form  upon  it,  over  the  high  altar  at  Guadalupe,  in  a  frame  of  solid 
silver,  located  just  where  she  spread  it,  and  she  filled  it  with  her- 
self. 

I  agreed  to  accept  the  miracle  if  they  would  show  the  flowers  as 
fresh  to-day  as  when  they  were  picked.  This  they  could  also  do ; 
for  flowers  abound  in  this  latitude,  and  beautiful  enough  to  turn 
any  dirty  blanket  into  a  Madonna. 

That  miracle  settled  the  case  for  the  Indians.  They  had  a  se- 
iiora  of  their  own.  Our  Lady  of  the  Remedies  was  a  Spanish  moth- 
er. This  was  an  Indian.  It  was  a  success.  The  Virgin  of  Guada- 
lupe  became  the  goddess  of  Mexico.  Divine  honors  were  paid  to 
her..  Temples  went  up  everywhere,  and  shrines  in  every  temple. 
Her  picture  on  its  blanket  hangs  in  every  house  and  hut,  above  the 
counter  of  the  merchant  and  the  bar  of  pulqui  dram-shops,  over 
the  forge  and  over  the  bed,  here,  there,  everywhere.  Books  by  the 
thousand  and  sermons  by  the  tens  of  thousands  have  been  written 
and  preached  upon  her  virtues  and  her  powers.  In  one  of  the 
books  in  the  library  of  Vera  Cruz  she  is  gravely  said  to  have  "got 
around  God."  Undoubtedly  she  got  around  this  people,  and  effect- 
ually took  them  in,  or  those  personating  her  did  ;  for  the  blessed 
Virgin  is  in  Paradise,  and  has  no  connection  with  this  idolatry. 

The  upper  of  these  three  churches,  where  she  first  appeared,  is 
reckoned  the  most  sacred.  Here  are  the  tombs  of  the  chiefest 
dignitaries  of  church  and  state.  The  ascent  is  lined  with  trophies 
of  her  ability  to  save  ;  one  a  solid  mast  and  sail  of  stone,  erected 
by  a  worshiper  whose  life  was  saved  from  shipwreck,  as  he  be- 
lieved, through  her  interposition. 

The  next  is  near  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  incloses  a  chalybeate 
fountain,  which  burst  forth  when  she -lit  there  on  her  foot.  "The 
iron  entered  her  sole,"  irreverently  remarked  an  American  sinner 
as  he  gazed  upon  the  fountain.  A  blaze  of  gilding  covers  the 
chapel  connected  with  this  beautiful  legend  of  the  fountain.  Its 
walls  are 

"Thick  inlaid  with  patinas  of  bright  gold." 


io4 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


THE   LOTTERY   TICKET. 


S 


Raffle  one  thousand  four  hundred  and  seventy-six. 


RAFFLE  1476  IN  BEHALF  OF  THE  SANCTUARY  OF  OUR 
LADY"  OF  GUADALUPE. 


Eighth  of  a  ticket  for  the  Raffle  one  thousand  four  hundred  and  seventy- 
six,  which  is  to  be  celebrated  in  Mexico  the  fifteenth  day  of  December,  one 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  sixty-five. 
$91,000.  Oct.  7. 


One  thousand  eight  hundred  and  sixty-five. 


*  "The  Sanctuary  of  our  Lady"  would  be  better  translated  freely  "The  Church  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin." 


POPULAR   ORGIES  DYING   OUT.  IO,j 

The  largest  church,  where  her  blanket  portrait  hangs,  is  a  few 
rods  farther  out  on  the  plain.  There  is  the  chief  outlay  of  gold 
and  silver  and  precious  stones.  Two  solid  silver  railings  with 
silver  banisters  lead  from  the  altar  to  the  choir,  a  hundred  feet 
at  least.  On  its  wall  is  an  inscription  to  her  as  the  Mother  of 
God,  Foundress  and  Savior  of  the  Mexican  People. 

But  the  priests  of  the  Virgin  have  an  eye  to  the  main  chance. 
They  turn  her  into  lottery  speculations,  and  make  her  useful  to 
their  often  infirmities.  At  the  door-way  an  old  servant  of  the  tem- 
ple sold  her  pictures,  beads,  and  other  ecclesiastical  knickknacks. 
A  picture  that  I  bought  of  her  was  wrapped  up  in  a  lottery  ticket 
like  that  shown  on  the  opposite  page,  with  its  translation. 

This  lottery  of  the  Virgin  is  one  of  the  most  flourishing.  The 
monthly  drawings  draw  daily  pennies  to  their  purse.  It  makes 
the  priestly  pot  boil.  Time  was  when  luxuries  were  theirs  ;  but 
these  are  hard  times  now  for  priests,  and  so  they  have  to  thus  turn 
an  honest  penny  to  a  dishonest  use. 

But  these  popular  orgies  are  fading  out.  True,  each  December 
witnesses  multitudes  from  over  all  the  land  attending  her  annual 
festival.  The  Indian  honors  it  with  the  dances  of  the  ancient 
times.  The  rites  are  more  Aztec  than  papal.  Yet  the  Jesuit  be- 
gins to  say  that  faith  in  the  Virgin  of  Guadalupe  is  not  essential  to 
salvation.  The  Bible  will  replace  the  Jesuit,  and  the  trick  by 
which  he  has  held  their  souls  captive  these  three  centuries  and  a 
half  will  cease  to  possess  them  more.  Christ  the  Liberator  is  com- 
ing. He  is  nigh — even  at  their  doors.  This  old  blanket,  like  that 
of  Bartimeus,  will  be  thrown  away,  and  the  people  will  come  to 
Jesus  and  be  healed. 

Let  us  leave  our  Lady  of  Guadalupe,  if  you  can,  with  all  this 
shrewd  but  shallow  faith  and  policy,  and  look  more  easterly.  Here 
lies  the  vision  that  charmed  the  Toltec  twelve  centuries  ago,  the 
Aztec  eight  centuries  ago,  the  Spaniard  three  centuries  ago,  and 
the  French,  Austrian,  and  American  conquerors  of  our  own  day. 
From  my  post  it  spreads  out  into  a  plain  that  loses  itself  in  a  sun- 
mist  forty  miles  away.  Across  the  plain  threads  of  water  stretch 
themselves,  sometimes  spreading  into  bayous,  or  lakes. 


ioC 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


' 


IZTACCIHUATL. 


The  lake  and  lev- 
el end  in  a  ridge 
that  rises  from  the 
surface  as  modest 
as  the  tiniest  slope, 
but  grows  and 
grows,  not  fast,  but 
steadily,  like  a  true 
fame,  into  a  sharp, 
brown  edge,  well 
lifted  up,  slides 
clown  a  little  on  its 
continual  ridge,  and 
then  rises  again,  still 
not  sharp  nor  sud- 


A    VIE  IV  OF   THE    TWO   PEAKS. 


107 


den,  nor  seemingly  very  high,  but  into  a  ragged  rim  covered 
with  snow.  You  are  surprised  to  find  so  low  a  horizon  cov- 
ered with  perpetual  ice.  Yet  there  it  lies,  not  so  low  after  all. 
It  is  ten  thousand  feet  above  this  seat,  and  nearly  eighteen 
thousand  above  the  gulf,  that  reclining  Lady  of  the  Skies,  who  re- 
joices in  the  unpronounceable  name  of  Iztaccihuatl.  I  have  heard 
all  sorts  of  people  seek  to  speak  this  word,  and  never  heard  two 
agree.  So  call  it  as  it  looks,  or  call  it  Big  I,  which  it  undoubtedly 
is.  You  see  her  head,  neck,  chest,  robes,  and  feet,  white-slippered, 
"  with  the  toes  turned  up  at  the  daisies  "  of  the  stars,  with  a  long 
trail  sweeping  beyond,  as  becomes  this  White  Woman,  which  that 
hard  name  means. 

The  southern  side  of  this  snow  range  drops  off  to  a  sharp  and 
snowless  ridge,  where  the  pass  lies  over  which  Scott  and  Cortez 
marched.  Narrow  as  it  looks,  it  is  probably  several  miles  before  that 
valley  is  crossed  and  the  magnificent  dome  and  peak  of  Popocate- 
petl rounds  itself  up  into  a  superb  cone  of  lustrous  ice.  Down  it 
glides  on  the  farther  side  into  those  brown  rims  on  which  we  first 
gazed,  and  thus  sails  round  the  circle  of  this  view.  These  snow- 
peaks  are  thus  a  not  extravagant  part  of  the  landscape.  They  do 
not  stretch  suddenly  and  extraordinarily  above  their  fellows.  They 
are  prinii  inter  pairs.  A  fall  of  rain  here  at  this  season  will  make 
all  this  high  ridge  snow.  It  was" so  last  week,  but  the  snow  was 
gone  ere  noon,  except  from  the  two  head  centres.  The  king  and 
queen  reign  (or  snow)  perpetually. 

The  torrid  sun,  it  would  seem,  ought  to  burn  off  their  mantle. 
You  can  not  sit  in  it  now  half  an  hour.  It  burns  on  the  knees 
like  a  burning-glass.  I  must  retreat  to  the  shadow  of  a  tall  stone 
bass-relief  lifted  up  at  the  front  of  the  roof,  and  at  the  foot  of  a 
headless  statue,  once  a  Magdalene,  I  judge,  conclude  this  portrait. 

It  shows  how  high  they  are,  and  how  distant  also,  not  less  than 
sixty  miles  away,  if  you  notice  that  range  of  cliffs  that  lies  between 
them  and  us.  They,  too,  are  well  lifted  up,  and  they  crouch  as  lions 
at  the  base  of  these  mighty  powers. 

See  the  volcanic  origin  also.     The  craters  are  visible  of  these 


106 


OUR   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


THE   DOME. 


lower  hills.     Some  look  just  like  a  bowl  upside  down,  with  its  bot- 
tom cut  off — a  round  hollow. 

You  have  seen  the  valley  of  Mexico.  On  that  north-eastern 
edge  of  the  snow  range,  a  few  feet  above  the  lake,  you  remember, 
Cortez  stood  and  viewed  the  landscape  over,  and  said,  "  I  must 
subdue  this  exquisite  region  for  our  Lady  and  her  Christ."     What 


ANOTHER  BATTLE.  109 

a  job  he  undertook  he  hardly  then  dreamed.  How  much  labor 
and  loss  of  life,  fightings  without  and  fears  within,  before  he  rode  a 
conqueror  through  these  streets,  which  he  had  made  without  inhab- 
itant, and  almost  without  a  dwelling-place.  Inch  by  inch  he  level- 
ed off  the  Aztec  city.  Two  years  and  over  he  plotted  and  fought, 
and  fought  and  plotted,  ere  the  prize  was  his. 

The  bloodless  battle  now  being  fought  for  the  recovery  of  this 
same  land  to  Christ,  how  long  will  that  take  ?  How  many  will  fall  ? 
Not  so  bloodless,  perhaps,  after  all.  A  more  cunning  enemy  than 
Montezuma,  a  more  daring  one  than  Guatemozin  is  to  be  subdued. 
He  may  kill  many  ere  he  himself  is  slain.  But  conquer  Christ  will. 
This  earth  in  all  its  beauty  is  His.  These  people  in  all  their  lowli- 
ness are  His.  The  Church  He  has  saved  with  His  most  precious 
blood  must  come  hither  bearing  the  true  cross  of  personal  holiness, 
and  by  patient  continuance  in  well-doing  bring  up  this  population 
to  the  level  of  Christian  probity,  piety,  and  peace. 

It  is  a  grander  work  than  any  ever  before  devised.  It  is  worthy 
of  the  Church  and  its  Divine  Head.  Let  it  be  steadily  prosecuted. 
Match  Cortez  in  his  patience,  perseverance,  persistence,  and  it  will 
be  done. 

The  sun  °rows  i10t  ancj  hotter.  The  shelter  of  the  bass-relief  is 
gone.  A  deep  recess  below  gives  a  stone  seat  in  the  corner,  just 
fitted  for  shade  and  air.  The  breezes  of  Popocatepetl  glide  cool- 
ingly  over  the  leaf  and  the  writer.  You  have  seen  Mexico  from 
the  house-top  ;  let  us  take  a  new  page,  and  show  you  Mexico  from 
the  sidewalk. 


IIO  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


III. 

FROM  THE  SIDEWALK. 

Views  from  Street  Corners.— Chief  Street— Shops,  Plaza,  Cathedral. —  High 
and  Low  Religion. — Aztec  Calendar  Stone. —  The  Sacrificial  Stone. —  The 
President's  private  House. — Hotel  Iturbide. — Private  Residences. — Alameda. 

The  dizzy  church  top  from  which  we  swung  round  the  circle  of 
the  town  is  not  half  as  agreeable  as  this  sturdy  and  simple  pave- 
ment at  its  foot.  After  all,  there  is  nothing  like  the  solid  earth 
under  your  feet.  Even  this  not  too  solid  earth  is  better  than  all 
airy  spirits  and  domes  and  azateas.  Not  too  solid,  because  you 
remember  Mexico  is  located  on  a  dry,  salt  marsh,  which  was  a  salt 
lake  when  Cortez  conquered  it,  and  which  is  yet  a  lake  a  few 
inches  below  the  surface,  and  often,  in  its  sewers  and  odors,  upon 
the  surface  also. 

These  odors  sometimes  surpass  those  of  Cologne,  but,  unlike 
those  of  that  fragrant  town,  are  not  especially  pestilential.  The 
high  altitudes  preserve  it  from  this  peril.  Nor  is  it  altogether 
blamable  for  this  defect.  Drainage  is  hardly  possible.  The  flat 
plain  surrounded  by  high  mountains  prevents  any  sufficient  descent 
for  sewerage.  When  the  street  is  opened  for  such  purposes,  you 
see  the  moist  mud  not  two  feet  below  the  pavement.  Efforts  are 
being  made,  or  rather  being  talked  about,  for  opening  channels  to 
the  Tulu  River,  some  forty  miles  to  the  west,  and  thereby  getting 
up  a  movement  of  this  sort  from  the  centre.  But  it  is  not  likely 
soon  to  be. 

Turning  away  our  eyes,  if  we  can  not  turn  up  our  noses,  from 
this  offense,  which  is  not  very  offensive  on  the  chief  thoroughfares, 
let  us  note  the  map  and  the  traits  of  the  town. 

The  first  peculiarity  you  will  observe  is  the  romantic  outlook  al- 
most every  street  corner  affords.     You  look  straight  through  the 


BEAUTY  OF  LOCATION.  II3 

city,  and  bound  your  vision  by  the  purple  mountains,  whichever 
direction  you  gaze.  Take  any  corner  where  the  streets  pass  clear 
through  the  town,  you  see,  north,  south,  east,  and  west,  or  as  near 
that  as  the  lines  run,  the  all-embracing  mountains.  They  are 
from  three  to  thirty  miles  distant,  some  even  sixty  miles,  and  yet 
they  look  as  if  only  just  down  to  the  farther  end  of  this  telescopic 
tube  of  a  street.  They  rise  from  two  to  ten  thousand  feet,  and  so 
are  never  diminutive,  often  very  magnificent. 

No  city  I  have  ever  seen  has  any  equal  cincture.  Athens  ap- 
proaches it.  Her  chief  streets  look  out  on  Pentelicus  and  Hymet- 
tus  ;  but  she  is  not  level  herself,  and  so  can  not  get  up  these  vis- 
tas ;  nor  is  she  large,  and  does  not,  therefore,  match  her  mount- 
ains. They  overpower  her,  not  she  them.  Mexico  is  equal  to  her 
grander  mountains.  Popocatepetl  is  not  ashamed  to  call  her  sis- 
ter, nor  is  she  unworthy  of  such  a  companionship.  Athens  historic- 
ally overtops  all  its  peaks.  Mexico  in  its  present  proportions  well 
fits  her  magnificent  frame.  One  never  tires  of  this  resting-place 
for  the  eye.  It  is  so  exquisite  in  calm  and  color,  that  it  seems  as 
if  made  on  purpose  for  exhibition  and  exhilaration. 

This  fact,  too,  seems  to  put  the  city  in  your  grasp  at  the  start. 
Most  towns  of  this  size  you  find  it  somewhat  difficult  to  master. 
They  are  so  tossed  up  and  down,  or  stretched  out,  or  have  no  per- 
ceptible limits,  that  one  is  a  long  time  in  getting  hold  of  them. 
Though  a  dweller  in  Chicago  for  a  month,  it  still  bewilders  me  to 
arrange  the  streets  of  its  west  and  south  sides.  Its  north  side  I 
never  attempted  to  subdue.  I  left  that  for  the  fire.  Boston,  ev- 
ery body  says,  except  its  own  people,  is  untamable.  Even  the  fire 
got  tired  of  running  round  and  round  its  narrow  and  crooked 
thoroughfares,  and  gave  up  in  despair,  especially  when  it  drew  near 
its  narrowest  and  crookedest  portion.  Philadelphia's  perfect  rect- 
angularly is  equally  bewildering,  while  Washington  makes  the 
head  swim,  no  less  in  its  everlasting  radiations  than  its  political 
plannings.  As  for  New  York,  Brooklyn,  London,  and  such  like  vil- 
lages, they  are  all  under  the  same  ban  as  their  superior  sisters. 

The  real  reason  of  this  is,  they  have  no  perceptible  boundaries  ; 


H4  0UR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

nothing  to  which  they  can  be  adjusted.  Cincinnati,  held  in  a 
pocket  of  hills,  is  much  more  easily  grasped  than  Chicago,  on  a 
walless  prairie.  Jerusalem  is  seen  at  a  glance,  despite  its  crooked 
and  narrow  alleys,  for  it  is  on  a  hill-top,  with  higher  hills  inclosing 
it.  But  Mexico  is  pre-eminent  in  this  respect.  You  know  the  town 
at  a  glance.  There  are  large  portions  of  it  I  have  not  visited,  yet 
I  have  seemed  to  see  it  all  at  any  corner.  There  it  lies,  each  four 
of  the  ways  straight  to  the  mountains. 

It  is  not  crooked.  Every  thoroughfare  is  straight,  and  the  blocks 
regular.  William  Penn  in  1680  did  not  surpass  Hernando  Cortez 
in  1522.  Unlike  his  ever-stretching,  never-girdled  town,  this  city 
has  its  natural  metres  and  bounds  that  put  the  whole  under  the 
eye  at  once.  It  is  like  the  observation  of  a  witty  judge  to  a  broth- 
er lawyer  on  Hempstead  Plains.  When  urged  to  stop  longer,  and 
see  the  country  more  thoroughly,  after  a  brief  ride,  he  stood  up 
in  the  buggy,  turned  himself  slowly  round,  and  said,  "  I  have  seen 
it.  Drive  on."  So  at  this  corner  where  the  Church  of  the  Profesa 
stands,  you  have  only  to  look  in  four  directions,  and  can  say,  "  I've 
seen  Mexico.  Drive  on."  But  if  the  general  appearance  is  the 
same,  the  special  and  nearer  views  are  varied,  novel,  and  attractive. 

Take  the  spot  at  the  base  of  our  church -tower  of  the  Profesa. 
It  is  simply  a  corner  in  a  city  street.  The  names  of  the  streets  are 
devotional  enough  to  make  us  pause  ;  for  here  come  together  the 
Street  of  the  Holy  Spirit  and  the  Street  of  St.  Joseph,  the  Royal. 
You  can  see  north  to  the  Guadalupe  range,  west  to  Tacubaya,  south 
to  Ajusca  (called  Ahusca),  a  tall,  dark,  purple  range,  and  east  to 
the  giant  peaks  of  snow.  The  mountains  are  indeed  round  about 
Mexico  as  about  no  other  capital,  while  the  town  lies  as  level  at 
their  bases  as  Chicago  by  its  lake. 

The  Aztec  priest,  himself  probably  a  prince  and  warrior,  an- 
nounced by  divination  that  where  they  should  see  an  eagle  on  a 
cactus,  holding  a  serpent  in  his  beak,  there  their  city  should  be 
planted — located  rather,  for  it  would  be  difficult  to  plant  a  city  on 
the  sea.  Such  a  sight  was  asserted  to  be  seen  at  the  southern  end 
of  Lake  Tezcuco.     The  city  was  placed  there  for  military  protec- 


SAN  COSME  AVENUE.  n5 

tion,  whatever  were  the  divinations  of  the  priests  ;  for,  being  on 
the  water,  it  was  not  easily  assailable.  They  took  the  eagle  with 
the  serpent  and  cactus  for  their  national  symbol,  and  the  conquer- 
ors accepted  that  national  coat  of  arms  from  their  subjects.  Some 
irreverent  Yankees  assert  that  a  more  appropriate  symbol  would 
be  a  Greaser  sitting  on  a  jackass  drinking  pulqui.  But  so  they 
could  retort  that  our  symbol  could  better  be  a  whisky-jug  and  a 
turkey  than  our  like  chosen  eagle. 

The  city  thus  laid  out  has  since  had  the  water  dry  up  from  be- 
neath it  sufficiently  to  give  it  solid  streets.  The  water  of  the  lake 
was  in  it,  in  canals,  and  close  to  it,  in  its  own  shallow  waves,  when 
Cortez  captured  it.  To-day  it  is  two  or  three  miles  from  its  outer 
most  eastern  gate.  While  the  streets  are  straight,  but  few  are 
noticeable,  and  only  two  or  three  are  really  attractive.  The  chief 
thoroughfare  from  the  de'pot  to  the  plaza  and  its  two  nearest  par- 
allel streets  are  the  main  avenues  of  the  city. 

The  San  Cosme  Avenue  starts  out  from  the  station  very  broad, 
but  it  narrows  as  it  passes  the  Alameda,  and  enters  the  thick  of  the 
town,  where  it  terminates  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  Grand  Plaza. 
This  is  the  very  street  over  which  Cortez  made  his  famous  escape 
from  the  infuriated  town,  rendered  doubly  mad  by  the  interference 
of  his  lieutenant,  Alvarado,  in  his  absence,  with  the  bloody  rites  of 
human  sacrifice.  The  town  woke  up  before  they  were  well  started, 
roused  by  a  sentinel,  chased  them  along  this  dike,  which  is  all  this 
then  was,  crossed  with  rude  and  frequent  ditches,  and  inclosed 
on  either  side  with  water.  The  multitudes  dragged  them  off  the 
narrow  causeways,  caught  them  as  they  tried  to  clear  the  chasms, 
their  pontoon  train  being  pressed  into  the  mud  of  the  first  broad 
ditch,  so  that  it  could  not  be  taken  up.  The  band  of  adventurers 
lost  their  arms,  ammunition,  horses,  precious  metals,  and  gems,  and 
all  but  a  score  of  their  men  were  left  along  the  ravine,  a  prey  to 
the  destroyer.  They  assembled  a  few  miles  up,  under  the  cypress- 
tree  still  standing,  and  a  few  days  later,  with  their  good  swords  and 
strong  hearts  cut  their  way  through  two  hundred  thousand  men, 
swinging  down  upon   them  from   the  Sierra  of  Gaudalupe,  in  the 


H6  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

plains  at  Otumba.  The  avenue  is  now  solid,  and  Alvarado's  famous 
leap  across  one  of  these  ditches  is  an  u indistinguishable  bit  of  the 
hard  highway.  Over  the  same  road  marched  the  American  army 
into  town,  Scott  and  Grant  and  Lee,  the  known,  and  the  then  un- 
known, being  in  the  little  host  of  later  conquerors.  If  we  are  seek- 
ing a  like  and  larger,  bloodless  and  better,  conquest,  we  can  proper- 
ly pass  to  our  quarters  over  the  same  path.  It  may  be  ominous  of 
a  bloody  retreat  under  the  uprisings  and  assaults  of  reigning  super- 
stition, but  it  will  only  thus  be  prophetic  of  ultimate  and  perfect 
victory. 

A  parallel  street  to  the  central  thoroughfare  goes  out  from 
the  western  end  of  the  same  plaza,  and  is  heavily  shaded  at  the 
start  with  covered  arcades,  like  a  deep  sombrero,  behind  which 
shop-men  of  all  sorts  ply  their  trades.  It  runs  straight  to  the  lux- 
urious northern  hamlet  of  Tacubaya.  Between  these  two  is  the 
street  at  whose  corner  you  have  been  standing.  It  lies  between 
the  green  plats  of  the  Plaza  and  the  Alameda,  each  of  which  ap- 
pears at  either  extremity.  This  street  is  the  busiest  and  most  fash- 
ionable of  all  in  the  town.  It  is  half  a  mile  long,  forty  to  fifty  feet 
wide,  about  three  stories  high,  faced  with  stone  or  mortar,  but,  ex- 
cept three  or  four  buildings,  without  especial  ornament.  It  bears 
the  names  of  Calle  del  Plateros  (or  Street  of  the  Silversmiths), 
Calle  de  Profesa,  and  Calle  de  San  Francisco.  It  is,  however,  one 
in  every  respect  but  its  name.  They  have  a  way  here  of  giving 
almost  every  block  a  name  of  its  own,  which  in  a  long  street  is  as 
perplexing  as  the  multitude  of  names  given  to  a  royal  heir  would 
be  if  he  were  called  by  a  different  one  of  them  every  day. 

This  street  is  lively  with  hackney  and  private  coaches ;  carts 
with  three  mules  abreast ;  burros,  or  donkeys,  with  their  immense 
burdens  ;  and  men  and  women  with  theirs  almost  equally  heavy, 
the  women  with  rebosas,  or  blue  or  brown  fine-wove  mantles,  wrap- 
ped about  their  shoulders,  and  half  hiding  the  faces  ;  the  men  with 
their  white  blankets  with  bright-colored  borders,  or  with  only  their 
dirty  white  shirts  and  trowsers,  carrying  heavy  loads  on  their 
trained  shoulders. 


SHOPPING  AND  STORES. 


SAN   COSME   AQUEDUCT,  CITY   OF    MEXICO. 


Fashion  also 
flows  up  and  down 
the  streets,  on  side- 
walks, and  in  car- 
riages. The  high- 
est fashion  is  never  to  appear  on  the  sidewalk,  not  even  to  shop  : 
but  the  grand  lady,  sitting  in  her  carriage,  has  the  goods  put  in 
her  lap,  and  daintily  indulges  her  feminine  passion. 

Come  up  to  the  plaza,  the  old  centre  of  the  city.  It  is  only  a 
few  rods — an  eighth  of  a  mile,  perhaps.  You  pass  a  few  dry-goods 
stores,  two  or  three,  in  this  chiefest  resort  of  the  ladies  and  the 
trade  ;  many  jewelry  stores,  into  which  the  former  silversmiths  that 
gave  their  name  to  the  street  have  changed  ;  tobacconists,  who 
have  only  smoking- tobacco,  the  chewing  variety  being  here  un- 
known. Their  cigarettes  are  done  up  in  paper  of  different  colors, 
and  so  packed  as  to  make  the  shop  look  tasteful  as  its  Parisian 


nS  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

rival.  Shoe  stores  abound,  containing  very  pretty  gaiters,  and  al- 
most the  only  cheap  article  in  the  city. 

Two  or  three  of  the  old  silversmith  establishments  remain,  holes 
in  the  wall,  where  a  few  manufactured  articles  of  silver,  very  neat 
and  cheap,  are  hung  up  on  the  sides  of  the  wall  above  the  little 
old  counter,  and  sometimes  a  tiny  forge  is  plying  its  fires  at  the 
rear. 

The  plaza  is  hardly  less  than  a  thousand  feet  square.  In  its 
centre  is  a  large  garden,  planted  by  Carlotta,  and  well  filled  with 
trees  and  flowers,  in  full  leaf  and  bloom.  On  the  west  and  south 
sides  are  deep  arcades,  filled  with  all  manner  of  knickknacks  of 
much  show  and  little  profit. 

The  Government  Palace  extends  along  the  entire  eastern  side, 
a  stately  but  not  superb  edifice.  In  its  ample  courts  large  num- 
bers of  the  soldiery  are  stationed,  and  even  a  great  quantity  of 
ammunition  is  stored.  The  hall  of  ambassadors  is  the  chief  room, 
stretching  along  nearly  all  this  front,  and  adorned  with  portraits  of 
the  leading  generals  and  presidents  of  the  republic,  among  whom 
place  is  found  for  Washington  and  Bolivar  alone,  of  other  nations. 
We  have  no  such  hall  in  Washington,  though  the  East  Room  in 
its  height  and  breadth  is  of  yet  greater  grandeur. 

The  north  or  chief  side  is  occupied  with  the  cathedral.  This 
immense  structure  is  approached  by  a  very  broad  esplanade  of  its 
own,  and  is  of  large  and  even  grand  proportions,  though  its  towers 
are  not  especially  effective.  It  stands  on  a  plateau,  raised  several 
feet  from  the  pavement  of  the  plaza,  has  adjoining  it  the  sagrario, 
or  parish  church,  profusely  carved  without  and  gilded  within,  the 
carving  cheap  and  the  gilding  faded.  It  is  cut  up  to  fit  divers 
crowds.  The  altar  by  the  chief  entrance  is  usually  thronged.  The 
choir  behind  it  is  a  stately  mass  of  carving.  Two  beautiful  balus- 
trades, of  an  amalgam  of  gold,  silver,  and  brass,  connect  the  choir 
and  the  high  altar.  So  rich  are  they  that  an  Englishman  offered  to 
replace  them  with  silver,  and  was  refused.  Beautiful  figures  of  like 
precious  metal  hold  candelabra  along  this  walk.  The  dome  is  of 
impressive  proportions,  and  the  high  altar  is  set  off  with  polished 


TRADING   ON  THE  SABBATH. 


119 


alabaster,  and  profusion  of  pink  and  green  images,  while  the  altar 
behind  it  is  one  blaze  of  gilding,  from  floor  to  ceiling,  with  a 
multitude  of  gilded  images  in  niches  along  its  broad  and  shin- 
ing face. 


1 


The  area  in  front  of  the  cathedral  is  full  of  people  selling  their 
wares — never  so  full  as  on  Sabbath  mornings.  Here  is  the  lottery- 
ticket  vender,  most  numerous  and  most  busy  of  all.  Male  and 
female  has  this  church  created  them,  chiefly  old  people.  All  their 
sales  have  a  percentage  of  benefit  for  the  priest.     The  sellers  are 


120  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

each  numbered,  and  the  church  keeps  steady  watch  over  this  im- 
portant revenue. 

Here  is  a  velocipede  course,  and  children  enjoy  it.  The  match- 
boy,  pert  and  pretty;  the  cigar-boy;  the  ice-cream  vender  of  a  very 
poor  cream,  as  I  knew  by  a  week  evening's  trial ;  the  print-seller — 
every  trade  that  can,  is  disposing  of  its  wares  before  this  sacred 
portal.  How  much  is  a  whip  of  small  cords  needed  here  and  now 
for  those  who  make  this  house  a  house  of  merchandise  !  But  mer- 
chandise of  souls  goes  on  within.  Shall  not  that  of  lesser  wares 
consistently  proceed  without  ? 

I  saw  high  mass  performed  here  two  weeks  ago  in  the  presence 
of  the  archbishop,  the  most  elaborate  and  ornate  religious  display 
I  ever  saw.  I  hardly  think  Rome  herself  equals  this  grandilo- 
quence of  dress  and  posture.  A  throne  was  set  on  the  side  of  the 
altar,  and  the  archbishop,  in  costly  gold  and  silver  vestments,  was 
installed  under  the  crimson  velvet  pall,  whose  only  defect  seemed 
to  be  a  piece  of  unpainted  frame  with  white  wooden  pulleys,  by 
which  the  top  of  the  velvet  back  was  let  out  over  the  head  a 
yard  or  more  as  a  roof.  It  was  evidently  made  so  that  this 
projection  could  be  hauled  up  to  a  line  with  the  back,  when  it 
was  to  be  carried  to  the  sacristy,  or  depository,  of  the  sacred  gar- 
ments. 

On  either  side  of  this  king  of  priests  were  many  pompously  ar- 
rayed vassals.  Before  him  were  three  officiating  ministers  in  like 
gaudy  apparel.  On  the  archbishop's  head  was  a  tall,  ornate,  gilded 
mitre,  which  he  changed  for  a  less  gilded  pasteboard  in  the  more 
penitential  portions  of  the  ceremony.  A  dozen  boys,  in  black  and 
white,  swung  incense  and  held  candles.  One  of  them  was  the 
keeper  of  his  grace's  handkerchief,  which  he  once  called  for  by 
touching  his  nose.  It  was  handed  him,  a  dingy  brown  and  red  silk 
bandana,  clean  and  folded,  however.  He  took,  opened,  used,  re- 
folded, and  returned,  and  the  service  went  on.  I  am  surprised  so 
fine  a  gentleman  does  not  use  a  white  linen  handkerchief,  or  one 
with  a  gold  border.  Is  that  en  regie  ?  I  saw  an  ofheiator  at  the 
Madelaine  in  Paris  blow  his  nose  upon  a  like  huge  and  dirtv-col- 


THE  ARCHBISHOP  AT  HIGH  MASS.  I2i 

ored  silk.  It  jarred  badly  with  his  golden  robes.  So  did  this 
with  these. 

Do  you  wish  to  know  how  the  archbishop  looks  ?  He  is  from 
fifty  to  fifty-two,  short,  thick-set,  full-fleshed,  full-faced  ;  has  a  strong, 
loud  voice,  a  bland  and  meaningless  smile,  a  polished  and  easy 
manner,  and  is  evidently  trained  in  the  art  of  government.  He 
preaches  every  Sunday  morning  to  a  large  audience  in  the  sagrario, 
who  sit  or  kneel  upon  the  floor.  He  is  not  an  orator  after  the  im- 
passioned sort,  but,  like  most  high  officials,  is  evidently  a  manager 
rather  than  a  talker.  The  interests  of  his  Church  will  not  suffer  in 
his  hands,  so  far  as  policy  and  push  can  favor  them.  He  seems 
also  very  devout  in  the  mass,  and  goes  through  that  ceremony  as 
though  he  believed  it,  which  most  do  not. 

A  small  image,  set  in  a  golden  base,  was  carried  round  the 
church  by  four  blue  cotton-robed  peons,  the  image,  I  believe,  of  St. 
Philip,  as  it  was  his  day  ;  and  the  choir  followed  singing,  and  the 
clergy,  and  a  crowd  of  irreverent  gazers  and  worshipers  treading 
almost  on  the  sacred  robes  and  their  more  sacred  wearers.  The 
crowd  was  very  ill-dressed  and  ill-mannered  ;  and  as  for  religion — 
well,  the  stream  can  not  rise  higher  than  the  fountain.  Poor  Philip 
did  differently  with  the  eunuch  than  these  his  worshipers  when  he 
ran  along  by  his  chariot,  and  preached  atonement  and  salvation 
by  simple  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Ah,  if  that  able  and  ac- 
complished gentleman  who  is  the  head  centre  of  this  display  could 
only  get  out  of  this  pomp  into  that  simplicity  of  faith,  how  different 
would  this  worship  be  ! 

The  singing  was  magnificent,  as  far  as  elaborateness  goes.  After 
the  pomp  had  finished,  they  disrobed  the  archbishop,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  congregation,  of  about  half  a  dozen  garments,  and 
put  on  him  a  scarlet  robe.  It  was  all  grandly  clone  ;  but  to  what 
intent?  Those  poor  crowds  of  half-dressed  spectators,  what  did 
they  learn  by  this  display?  Ah!  Christ,  Thou  art  needed  in  this 
temple,  to  teach  Thy  professed  ministers  how  to  feed  Thy  famish- 
ing flock.     Hasten  Thy  coming!     He  has  come  ! 

Let  us  get  out  of  this  holy  smoke,  and  odor  and  blaze  and  glare 


122 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


and  tinsel,  and  the  nasty,  ragged  crowd  of  spectators,  and  take  to 
the  street  again.  You  notice,  as  you  leave  the  church,  a  round 
slab  at  its  northern  corner.  That  is  the  Calendar  Stone  of  the 
Aztecs.  It  was  saved  from  the  ruins  of  the  teocallis  that  stood 
here.  It  is  a  specimen  of  the  learning  and  art  of  those  people,  and 
shows  that  but  for  their  religion  they  might  have  longer  held  sway. 
Their  present  religion,  poor  as  it  is,  replaced  a  poorer.  This  ca- 
thedral, grand  as  it  is,  is  not  too  grand  to  occupy  its  seat.  It  is 
of  the  Lord. 


THE  AZTEC   CALENDAR   STONE. 

Turn  from  the  cathedral  southward,  enter  the  street  opposite 
that  by  which  you  entered  the  plaza,  pass  by  the  President's  palace 
and  the  post-office,  and  you  come  to  a  museum  of  antiquities.  In 
the  centre  of  its  court  lies  a  huge,  round,  red  granite  stone,  twelve 
feet  in  diameter,  four  feet  high.     This  stone  is  covered  with  amor- 


'"       .      ,ii       Ml/       ill      .1      '"       '  ' 


THE  STREET  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO.  I2-, 

phous  figures,  and  is  deep  stained  as  if  with  blood.  Where  the 
cathedral  stands,  a  teocallis  stood — five  terraces,  and  two  hun- 
dred feet  high.  By  a  fivefold  series  of  stairs  in  one  corner,  and 
fivefold  circuit  of  the  mound,  the  teocallis  was  mounted.  On  its 
top  was  this  stone.  Around  the  sides  of  the  teocallis  and  up  its 
steps  they  led  their  victims — men  and  youth  by  the  thousands — 
made  them  pause  before  this  stone,  stretched  their  chests  over  it, 
so  that  the  heart  was  strained  over  its  edge,  cut  the  flesh  over  the 
heart  opening  to  it,  plucked  the  heart  forth,  laid  it  reverently  be- 
fore the  god,  and  hurled  the  body  clown  the  sides  of  the  teocallis 
to  the  multitude  below,  who  took  it  up  carefully,  cooked  it,  and  ate 
it  as  a  religious  banquet.  The  cathedral  is  better  than  the  teocallis, 
and  the  genuflexions  and  millinery  of  priests  and  bishops  than  the 
sacrifice  of  bloody  hearts  and  the  sacrament  of  cannibalism. 

Turn  northward  again.  We  pass  up  the  street  of  San  Francisco, 
by  the  modest  house  of  President  Lerdo,  a  two -story  city  front, 
with  green  blinds,  without  pretense  or  cost ;  past  the  Hotel  Iturbide, 
once  that  emperor's  palace,  now  the  Hotel  Diligencias,  the  costliest 
edifice  on  the  street ;  past  the  chapel  of  San  Francisco  and  the 
pile  of  buildings  which  made  that  famous  convent.  Nearly  op- ' 
posite  the  chapel  and  its  gardens  are  the  residences  of  the  two 
wealthiest  Mexicans,  Barron  and  Escandron.  The  brother  of  the 
latter  once  gave  his  check  for  seven  millions  of  dollars.  He  began 
his  fortune  by  establishing  a  stage-coach  system  all  over  this  coun- 
try. Mines,  railroads,  and  other  operations  keep  it  growing.  Their 
residences  are  plain  without,  except  the  latter's  new  house,  which 
essays  pillars  and  bronze  dogs  and  lions  on  its  roof.  Within  they 
are  sumptuous.  Courts,  flowers,  long  suites  of  long  parlors,  every 
thing  the  heart  craves  is  there,  except  that  which  it  craves  pre- 
eminently— the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Between  their 
houses  is  an  old  structure,  faced  with  porcelain,  blue-and- white 
blocks,  four  inches  square,  of  various  figures.  Within  is  a  court 
with  carved  pillars.  It  is  a  very  fanciful  structure,  and  originally 
cost  much.  Across  the  way  from  these  dignities,  in  pleasant  apart- 
ments, is  the  residence  of  the  American  consul  general,  Dr.  Julius 


124 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


A.  Skilton,  who  won  large  repute  for  courage  and  skill  in  our  war, 
and  none  the  less  for  his  sagacity  and  courage  as  a  reporter  of 
the  New  York  Herald  during  the  close  of  the  French  occupation. 
Whoever  comes  to  Mexico  will  be  sure  of  a  handsome  welcome 
in  this  American  home. 


fill 


INTERIOR    OF    A    MODERN    MEXICAN    HOUSE. 


A  Mexican  house  is  all  beautiful  within,  if  anywhere.  It  is  not 
so,  certainly,  without.  You  enter  through  a  large  high  door,  wide 
enough  to  admit  your  carriage,  into  a  patio,  or  open  paved  court. 
Around  this  are  rooms  for  servants  and  horses,  on  the  first  floor. 
Handsome  stairs  lead  to  the  upper  stories,  light  balconies  run 
around  them,  and  rooms  open  into  them.  They  are  not  allowed  to 
open  on  neighboring  estates,  so  they  must  open  on  court  or  street. 
The  last  commands  usually  only  one  of  the  four  sides ;  so  most 
houses  have  three-fourths  of  their  light  from  the  court. 


THE  ALAMEDA.  X2^ 

These  rooms  are  as  cool  and  airy  as  those  built  after  our  fashion, 
though  they  usually  have  only  one  inlet  for  air  and  light.  They  are 
much  higher  in  ceiling  than  ours,  and  are  tastefully  set  off  in  fres- 
coes. The  balustrades  are  often  of  brass,  and  the  work  has  a  more 
finished  look,  even  in  common  houses,  than  the  best  in  the  States 
exhibit.  On  the  street  side  are  small  balconies  for  sight-seeing. 
There  are  more  disagreeable  dwellings  by  far  than  a  first-class 
Mexican  house. 

A  few  rods  farther  north  and  we  reach  the  city  park,  called  Ala- 
meda. It  is  a  pretty  shaded  inclosure  of  about  forty  acres,  lying 
between  the  two  thoroughfares  of  the  San  Francisco  and  the  San 
Cosme.  Its  trees  are  large,  thick  together,  and  perpetually  green. 
The  leaf  hardly  falls  before  the  young  one  presses  itself  to  take  its 
aged  place,  so  that  even  the  deciduous  sort  never  get  reduced  to  a 
Northern  nakedness.  Their  new  spring  robes,  like  a  snake's,  an 
eagle's,  and  an  Easter  belle's,  are  assumed  or  ere  their  old  ones  are 
dropped. 

These  trees  are  interspersed  with  open  plats,  where  flowers  of 
every  size  and  sort  gladden  the  nerves  of  sight  and  smell.  These 
are  again  interspersed  with  fountains,  and  circular  centres  lined 
with  stone  benches,  and  open,  hard  parterres  for  children  and 
bands  to  play.  The  trees  and  flowers  are  shut  off  from  approach 
by  high  fences ;  the  circles  about  the  fountains  and  graveled 
squares  are  alone  accessible. 

This  park  needs  only  one  addition  to  make  it  a  perpetual  delight 
— safety.  One  can  not  walk  there  in  midday  without  peril.  Al- 
most every  clay  robberies  occur.  A  gentleman  walking  with  his 
wife  saw  another  man  being  robbed,  and  declined  to  interfere, 
though  he  had  a  revolver,  on  the  ground  that  it  might  alarm  his 
wife. 

We  may  rest  here  from  our  sidewalk  studies,  if  we  are  tired,  and 
it  is  not  too  dark,  and  talk  on  what  this  city  needs  to  make  it  as 
safe  as  it  is  lovely. 


126  OUR  X EXT- DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


IV. 

A  NE  W  E  VENT  IN  MEXICO. 

Palace  of  the  President. — The  President. — How  he  looks. — What  he  pledges. — 
Former  Property  of  the  Church. — Its  Consequences. — Corruption. — Prospects 
and  Perils. 

The  first  official  recognition  by  the  head  of  the  Mexican  nation 
of  any  other  Church  than  the  Roman  Catholic,  which  was  till  within 
a  few  years  the  only  possible  religion,  was  so  frank,  cordial,  and 
free  as  to  show  how  complete  is  the  executive  and,  therefore,  po- 
litical and  constitutional  changes  in  this  important  republic. 

At  4  o'clock,  Tuesday,  Jan.  14th,  the  American  minister,  Hon. 
Thomas  H.  Nelson,  accompanied  by  his  secretary,  Mr.  Bliss,  son 
of  Rev.  Asher  Bliss,  long  missionary  among  the  Seneca  Indians,  a 
gentleman  of  remarkable  scholarship  and  hardly  less  remarkable 
wit,  took  three  Americans  into  the  presence  of  the  President  of 
Mexico.  One  was  General  Palmer,  the  Philadelphia  representa- 
tive of  the  Mexican  railroad  movement ;  another  was  Mr.  Parish, 
of  Europe,  co-operator  abroad  in  these  American  enterprises  ;  and 
the  third  was  a  Methodist  minister,  come  hither  to  arrange  for  the 
planting  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  this  country. 

The  palace  occupies  a  side  of  the  Grand  Plaza  on  which  the 
cathedral  fronts.  Through  long  and  handsome  apartments  we  are 
led  to  one  richly  furnished  in  its  hangings,  marbles,  and  paintings, 
chief  of  which  is  the  portrait  of  Emperor  Iturbide,  who  more  than 
any  other  man  was  the  Washington  of  Mexico,  and  secured  her  in- 
dependence. 

The  President  soon  enters.  A  small  man,  with  small,  well-shaped 
head  and  features,  hair  thin,  well-nigh  to  baldness,  with  pleasant, 
bland  smile,  tone,  and  manner.    We  are  introduced  by  Mr.  Nelson 


INTERVIEW   WITH  THE  PRESIDENT.  I2-j 

in  a  graceful  and  dignified  form,  and  the  President  addresses  each 
by  turn.  On  the  introduction  of  the  clergyman,  he  said  he  had 
often  heard  of  the  antecedents  of  the  Church  he  represented,  and 
welcomed  him  to  the  supervision  of  her  work  in  this  country.  No 
one  Church  was  recognized  by  the  state  as  of  superior  claims  to 
another.  Toleration  of  all  faiths  was  the  law  of  the  land.  This 
movement  might  not  be  looked  upon  with  favor  by  bishops  here  ; 
but  the  civil  power  would  protect  it,  if  it  became  necessary,  in  de- 
fense of  its  rights  and  liberties.  I  thanked  him  for  his  offers,  but 
said  I  hoped  no  such  case  would  arise  as  would  call  for  the  protec- 
tion of  the  state.  We  had  no  hostile  relations  to  other  religious 
bodies.  Our  mission  was  to  build  up  our  work  in  our  own  way,  by 
education  of  the  people,  and  by  organization  of  churches  of  our 
own  faith  and  order. 

He  responded  yet  more  at  length,  re-affirming  his  readiness  to 
support  our  churches  in  any  exigencies  that  might  arise  in  the 
prosecution  of  our  work,  so  far  as  they  were  imperiled  by  any  un- 
lawful opposition.  He  repeated  his  welcome  to  the  land,  and  his 
good  wishes  for  our  prosperity. 

This  interview  means  more  than  the  recognition  of  one  Christian 
Church.  It  is  the  formal  and,  to  a  degree,  official  announcement  of 
the  policy  of  the  nation.  .  The  President  is  a  scholar  and  jurist  of 
large  repute.  He  had  charge  in  his  earlier  years  of  a  school  in 
this  city,  and  in  later  years  was  president  of  the  courts,  where  the 
question  of  Church  property  has  been  often  in  consultation.  In  all 
his  public  life  he  has  thus  met  with  Church  matters.  He  has  been 
affirmed  to  be  in  more  sympathy  with  the  Church  party  than  Juarez, 
and  some  of  its  leaders  have  dreamed  that  their  former  preroga- 
tives were  to  be  restored  under  his  administration. 

This  strong  and  unequivocal  affirmation  of  the  law  of  the  realm 
and  of  his  cordial  support  of  its  principles,  even  to  the  aid  of  the 
civil  power,  if  need  be,  shows  how  impossible  it  is  for  any  single 
Church  government  to  again  possess  exclusive  jurisdiction  here 
and  the  support  of  the  national  arm. 

The  Roman  Catholic  chiefs  are  recognizing  this  fact,  and  are 


i28  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

said  to  be  favorable  to  annexation,  because  they  can  get  yet  larger 
liberties  under  our  government  than  are  allowed  them  here.  No 
one  is  permitted  to  appear  in  his  official  costume  in  the  streets  of 
this  city.  Religious  processions  are  proscribed.  The  holy  wafer 
is  carried  to  dying  people  no  longer  in  a  gilded  coach,  but  in  a 
private  carriage,  the  bared  head  of  the  driver  being  the  only  sign 
by  which  the  faithful  can  know  it,  and  can  fall  on  their  knees  on 
its  passing  by.  So  great  has  this  irreverence  grown,  that  a  native 
gentleman,  pointing  to  the  sagrario  where  this  coach  is  still  kept, 
said  to  me,  "  They  keep  in  there  what  they  call  '  the  Holy  Ghost 
coach,'  but  I  call  it  the  hell-cart."     Could  disrespect  go  further? 

The  confiscation  of  Church  property  was  an  enormous  loss  of 
Church  power.  It  held  two-thirds  of  this  city  in  its  possession. 
It  held  mortgages  in  as  large  a  portion  of  the  country.  Letting 
its  money  at  a  low  figure  and  on  liberal  and  long  terms,  it  gradual- 
ly became  an  enormous  savings-bank,  and  controlled  the  whole 
landed  interest  of  the  country.  Its  convents  covered  hundreds  of 
acres  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  were  adorned  in  the  highest 
degree  that  art  and  wealth  could  devise.  Gardens,  lakes,  parks, 
pillars  elegantly  wrought  in  polished  marble,  churches  of  splen- 
dor in  construction  and  ornamentation,  were  the  unseen  luxurious 
abodes  of  the  world-denying  friars  and  nuns.  Corruption  of  the 
most  startling  sort  abounded  ;  and  money,  the  sinews  of  the  state, 
was  in  the  hands  exclusively  of  the  corrupted  and  corrupters. 

Good  men  may  have  been  involved  in  this  arrangement,  may 
have  presided  over  it.  Good  men  have  been  connected  with  every 
controlling  evil  that  the  world  has  ever  seen.  An  Orthodox  Con- 
gregational minister  called  his  burning  satire  against  New  En- 
gland's demoralization  under  rum  "  Deacon  Giles's  Distillery,"  and 
the  slave-holding  system  of  English  West  Indies  was  supported  by 
rectors  of  the  Established  Church,  and  of  our  own  land  by  ministers 
of  all  churches  in  the  South.  So  We  are  all  in  condemnation,  and 
none  can  throw  stones  at  the  former  growth  to  financial  power  of 
the  Roman  Church  in  Mexico. 

Indeed,  it  has  its  eloquent  advocates  to-day.     A  lady  of  high 


A    CHANGE  FOR    THE  BETTER.  I2q 

social  position  and  an  ardent  Papist,  as  she  proudly  calls  herself, 
but  yesterday  was  declaring  that  the  former  system  was  far  better 
than  the  present ;  that  the  Church  leased  its  buildings  cheaper 
than  landlords  do  now,  and  was  far  more  merciful  to  its  debtors ; 
that  great  suffering  had  followed  the  overthrow  of  its  moneyed 
power.  All  of  this  was  undoubtedly  true.  So  we  have  heard  of 
the  suffering  to  the  emancipated  class  in  our  own  land  arising 
from  their  liberation,  and  not  without  foundation  is  that  complaint. 

A  sudden  change  in  the  weather,  whether  from  heat  to  cold  or 
cold  to  heat,  is  attended  with  loss  of  life  to  those  whose  enfeebled 
condition  can  not  bear  extremes  of  any  thing.  If  the  "  Norther  " 
kills  every  person  sick  of  the  yellow  fever  in  the  hospitals  of  Vera 
Cruz,  it  drives  the  fever  out  of  the  city,  and  saves  the  lives  of  all 
that  are  well.  So  the  old  never  changes  into  the  new  without 
some  sense  of  loss.  But  it  changes,  nevertheless ;  and  it  changes 
for  the  better.  Mexico  is  far  better  off  under  ecclesiastical  liberty 
than  under  ecclesiastical  bondage.  New  England  is  vastly  im- 
proved religiously  by  the  abolition  of  her  State  Church,  which  gov- 
erned her  till  within  a  half  a  century;  as  England  will  be  equally 
advanced  in  morals  and  religion  when  her  national  Church  is  dis- 
established, and  lawn  sleeves  cease  to  flutter  among  the  black 
coats  of  the  House  of  Lords,  unless  they  flutter  on  the  white  arms 
of  the  ladies  of  the  realm. 

So  Mexico  has  sprung  up  in  newness  of  life  through  this  eman- 
cipation from  the  fetters  of  an  enforced  ecclesiastical  system.  The 
Roman  Catholic  Church  has  yet  large  control  of  her  people  j  and 
will  have  more,  if  possible,  by  the  new  relation  of  liberty  of  choice 
in  which  she  will  stand  to  them  and  they  to  her.  Other  Christian 
Churches  are  springing  up,  and  all  the  leading  bodies  in  America 
will  be  earnestly  active. 

The  prospects  of  their  success  are  excellent.  The  people  are 
free  in  this  city  and  its  environs,  and  are  protected  in  their  freedom 
by  public  sentiment  and  the  civil  power.  Consequently,  the  new 
churches  are  well  attended,  and  priests  and  subordinate  church 
officials  are  joining  them.     A  doctor  of  divinity,  who  was  offered 


I3o  OCR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

a  bishopric  if  he  would  remain  with  the  Romanists,  has  left  their 
ranks  and  joined  himself  to  the  new  movement. 

In  some  other  cities  persecution  yet  abounds.  At  Toluca,  the 
capital  of  this  State,  a  riot  broke  up  lately  one  of  these  congre- 
gations, in  which  three  persons  were  killed.  At  Peubla,  the  chief 
city  next  to  the  capital,  a  preacher  was  mobbed  from  the  town  for 
daring  to  speak  in  the  name  of  Jesus.  But  these  ebullitions  will 
grow  less,  I  trust ;  and,  if  they  increase,  it  will  be  but  for  a  mo- 
ment. Like  our  Ku-Klux  outrages,  they  are  the  dying  blows  of  a 
dying  evil.  They  will  grow  fainter,  and  then  cease.  The  new  or- 
der has  arisen  on  this  grand  country — the  order  of  religious  lib- 
erty. It  has  followed  the  advent  of  civil  liberty  here,  as  it  fol- 
lowed it  in  our  own  country.  It  will  enlarge  and  uplift  this  land, 
as  it  has  our  own. 

Honor,  then,  to  President  Lerdo  for  his  cheering  words !  He 
will  not,  we  hope,  be  called  to  put  those  into  effect  which  prom- 
ised protection  in  the  courts  and  by  the  power  of  the  state.  The 
leaders  of  the  dominant  Church  will  have  to  accept  the  situation, 
and  allow  the  new  forms  and  forces  of  the  Church  of  Christ  to  op- 
erate undisturbed,  except  by  such  friendly  rivalry  as  they  may  see 
fit  to  put  forth. 

Since  this  event,  interviews  have  been  granted  other  clergymen, 
and  like  assurances  been  given.  The  laws  of  Congress  have  been 
liberal  and  right.  But  persecutions  have  broken  out,  and  murders 
committed  in  Puebla  and  elsewhere.  One  missionary  has  fallen. 
But  no  punishment  has  been  meted  out  to  the  murderers.  Unless 
this  is  done,  promises  and  edicts  will  be  idle  words.  We  trust 
it  will  be  done.  If  not,  should  not  America  protect  her  own  citi- 
zens in  these  rights  as  much  as  she  would  protect  her  merchants 
trading  there  ?  Toleration  is  the  first  word,  Protection  the  second. 
Will  the  wise  Lerdo  de  Tejada  give  us  both  ? 


A  MEDIAEVAL  CASTLE.  x,x 


V. 

OLD  AND  NE IV  AMONG  THE  SIL  VER  MINES. 

A  Mediaeval  Castle.— First  Icicle. — Omatuska. — More  about  Pulqui. — A  big 
Scare. — A  Paradise.— Casa  Grande. — A  Sabbath  in  Pachuca. — A  native  Con- 
vert.—  Mediaeval  Cavalcade. — The  Visitors. —  Mounting  Real  Del  Monte. — 
The  Castle  of  Real. —  Gentlemanly  Assassin. —  Silver  Factories. — Velasco. — 
A  Reduction. — Haciendado  Riley. — Mexican  Giant's  Causeway. — More  Sil- 
ver Reduction. — Horsemanship  under  Difficulties. — Contraries  balancing  Con- 
traries.— La  Barranca  Grande. — A  bigger  Scare. — A  Wedding. — Miner  and 
Mining. — The  Gautemozin. — The  better  Investment. 

One  need  not  go  to  Europe  to  find  one  of  its  best  mediseval 
towns.  Let  him  visit  Quebec.  So  one  need  not  go  back  to  the 
Middle  Ages  to  see  a  fine  specimen  of  feudal  times.  Let  him 
come  to  Pachuca.  I  have  been  pleased  often  at  the  ingenious  way 
in  which  Mr.  Hale  contrives  to  get  allusions  to  the  Old  and  New 
in  the  introductory  pages  of  his  magazine.  They  are  by  far  the 
best  part  usually  of  its  contributions,  and  not  the  worst  specimens 
of  his  own  ability.  But  were  he  where  I  am  to-night,  and  had  he 
enjoyed  what  I  have  these  last  three  days,  he  would  have  material 
for  a  most  piquant  page  of  his  preamble.  I  have  never  seen  there 
yet,  to  my  surprise,  Lowell's  line, 

"Old  and  new  at  its  birth,  like  Le  Verrier's  planet." 

Perhaps  it  has  been  quoted.     This  experience  was  old  and  new  at 
its  birth  to  those  that  were  privileged  to  enjoy  it. 

The  place  where  I  am  writing  is  a  castle  of  the  Middle  Ages  in 
its  important  features.  Its  huge  door  is  kept  closed.  Beside  the 
entrance  armed  men  are  constantly  to  be  seen.  An  iron  gate 
within  prevents  the  passage  of  the  enemy  if  the  first  door  is  pene- 
trated.     The  roof  is  surrounded  with  a  battlement,  pierced  with 


I32  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

loop-holes  and  slit  with  turrets,  and  crowned  with  a  tower,  project- 
ing into  the  sidewalk,  and  well  adjusted  to  hurl  grenades  and  shoot 
rifles  at  assailants  below. 

The  open  court,  into  which  the  entrance  instantly  leads,  is  often 
full  of  armed  men  and  horses,  called  to  accompany  their  leader  on 
his  official  excursions.  The  rattling  of  spurs  on  its  pavement,  and 
clinking  of  the  ornaments  of  the  horsemen  and  their  horses,  are 
familiar  sounds.  The  patio  is  European  and  antique ;  an  ele- 
gant stairway  to  the  upper  story  begins  opposite  the  entrance ;  a 
balcony  runs  around  that  story,  well  faced  with  exquisite  flowers  of 
every  tropical  delight,  and  rooms  open  from  it,  spacious  and  ele- 
gant. Everywhere  wealth  and  refinement  prevail.  The  luxurious 
air  of  Mexico  is  about  us,  and  the  old  times  are  yet  more  around 
us.  How  did  we  get  here,  and  why  ?  Thereby  hangs  a  tale.  Let 
the  city  walks  and  rides  rest  a  while,  as  we  unfold  the  panorama 
of  this  our  first  excursion  into  the  country.  That,  as  every  thing 
else  here,  is  attended  with  danger. 

"  Dangers  stand  thick  through  all  the  ground," 

we  have  to  constantly  sing,  and  not  only  sing  it,  but  "  sense  "  it,  as 
the  backwoods  thinker  strongly  puts  it.  One  must  look  sharp,  or 
he  will  be  in  the  condition  of  the  lepers  in  Samaria,  who  were  in 
danger  of  perishing  whether  they  staid  in  the  city  or  went  without 
the  walls.  There  seems  to  be  about  an  equal  danger  of  being  rob- 
bed, kidnaped,  and  otherwise  abused,  whether  you  remain  in  the 
city  or  go  into  the  country. 

For  instance,  right  opposite  my  hotel,  a  gentleman  of  a  rich  fam- 
ily was  kidnaped  a  few  months  ago,  as  he  was  returning  from  the 
opera  at  an  early  hour  of  the  night,  not  later  than  ten,  and  con- 
fined in  a  room  not  far  from  the  Grand  Plaza  for  nine  days,  being 
put  in  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and  knives  so  placed  that  any  move- 
ment of  his  body  would  thrust  them  into  him.  So  it  is  not  without 
peril  even  to  remain  in  the  hotel,  or,  rather,  to  go  to  the  opera,  a 
possibility  also  elsewhere,  but  of  another  sort.  He  was  discovered 
by  the  tell-tale  of  a  woman,  who  had  the  sweet  revenge  of  seeing 


A    TEXT  AND  A  SERMON.  I33 

four  of  her  masculine  comrades  executed  in  twenty-four  hours  after 
her  revelation. 

But  there  is  no  less  danger  in  leaving  the  city.  The  country  is 
full  of  robbers.  Stage-coaches  are  rifled  on  every  road.  The  Gov- 
ernment is  powerless  to  protect  life  or  property.  Yet  one  might  as 
well  die  by  the  robbers  as  be  scared  to  death  through  fear  of  being 
robbed.     "  Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady,"  or  any  thing  else. 

"  Let  us,  then,  be  up  and  doing, 
With  a  heart  for  any  fate," 

a  great  thing  to  say,  if  we  mean  all  it  includes,  though  many  trip 
over  the  distich  as  though  it  were  only  pretty  poetry. 

Our  point  objective  is  Pachuca.  You  have  heard  of  the  silver 
mines  of  Mexico.  Who  has  not  ?  Curiosity  and  churchianity  led 
our  first  steps  to  these  treasures.  We  wanted  to  see  what  had 
made  Mexico  so  attractive,  and  how  she  could  be  made  more  so. 
Miss  Kilmansegg  would  not  have  been  worth  much  without  her 
precious  leg,  and  Mexico  would  have  been  let  alone  as  severely  as 
the  Central  African  governments,  but  for  her  precious  legacy.  But 
these  treasures  are  useless  to  this  country  unless  Christ  go  with 
them  and  before  them.  They  have  poured  forth  hundreds  and 
thousands  of  millions  into  the  lap  of  earth  ;  they  have  enriched 
thrones  and  subjects  in  all  lands ;  they  control  the  merchandise  of 
China  and  India  to-day.  Yet  the  nation  that  produces  them  is 
poor  and  ignorant  and  blind  and  naked  ;  a  nation  peeled  and  rob- 
bed by  its  own  masters  ;  a  nation  of  blood  and  strife  and  desola- 
tion. How  its  splendid  ceremonials  of  service,  and  magnificent 
altars  and  vestments,  and  golden  shrines,  and  silver  altar  railings, 
and  unbounded  pomp  and  parade  are  rebuked  by  this  poverty  and 
peacelessness  of  its  people  !  Christ  must  come  to  Mexico.  Even 
so,  come  Lord  Jesus,  and  come  quickly. 

The  text  for  this  sermon  was  Pachuca  and  Real  del  Monte,  or 
Royal  Mount.  If  a  pun  were  allowable,  it  might  be  anglicized  into 
Mount  of  Reals,  the  silver  York  shilling  of  the  country,  or  worse 
yet,  and  more  Englishy,  into  the  Real  Mount,  for  most  people  would 


134  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

fancy  that  that  mount  only  had  reality  which  was  a  mount  of  silver. 
The  two  are  properly  one,  Pachuca  and  Real  del  Monte,  the  former 
being  the  city,  the  latter  the  hills  behind  it,  many  of  which  are  reg- 
ularly and  largely  mined,  and  the  topmost  one  of  which,  six  miles 
from  the  city,  and  the  seat  of  several  mines,  being  known  exclusive- 
ly by  that  title. 

Here,  too,  are  about  three  hundred  English  people,  seventy-five 
workmen,  and  overseers,  with  their  families.  Two  Spanish  Protest- 
ant congregations  are  here  gathered.  The  threefold  cord  of  silver 
mines,  and  English  and  Spanish  Church  work,  was  too  much  for 
revolvers  and  robbers  to  overcome,  and  so  we  are  off  for  Pachuca. 
That  Saturday  morning  on  which  we  started  was  January  18th, 
1873.  Perhaps  you  remember  it  where  you  lived.  I  doubt  not  that 
it  was  stinging  cold,  for  even  here  it  was  cool  enough  for  an  over- 
coat when  rushing  along  with  the  open  windows  of  a  tireless  car. 
One  of  the  party  picked  up  an  icicle  of  a  hand's  length  and  half 
its  breadth,  at  a  station  a  few  miles  from  the  city,  the  only  bit  of  ice 
I  have  seen  growing  all  this  season.  The  sunny  side  of  a  house 
was  pleasant  that  morning.  That  was  all.  Long  before  noon  it 
was  sultry.  Overcoats  were  off  and  umbrellas  up,  and  we  wilted 
under  the  torrid  sun.     How  was  it  up  your  way  ? 

Pachuca  lies  about  sixty  miles  from  Mexico  to  the  north,  and  a 
little  to  the  east.  Our  railroad  takes  us  forty  miles  to  Omatuska, 
where  a  breakfast  and  a  stage  await  us.  The  first  ate — and  a 
goodly  one  it  was  to  eat — the  second  is  mounted.  The  party  is 
four  :  two  ministers,  and  two  railroaders,  a  general,  and  a  banker, 
leaders  in  one  of  the  projected  Mexican  invasions.  The  stage-ride 
is  about  forty  miles,  the  distance  this  way  being  a  third  greater 
than  straight  across  the  country,  but  a  third  less  of  coach-ride. 
The  morning  is  splendid.  The  sun  has  warmed  to  his  work  at  this 
ten  and  a  half  o'clock,  but  not  fierce  in  burning.  The  road  passes 
through  a  landscape  of  beauty  and  wealth  and  emptiness.  Two 
or  three  haciendas,  or  plantations,  cover  almost  the  whole  of  the 
distance.  The  first  stretches  for  six  or  eight  miles,  and  is  given 
up  almost  entirely  to  the  culture  of  pulqui. 


MAGUEY  PLANT,  AND  ITS  HEART. 


135 


It  is  pitiful  to  see  these  miles  and  miles  of  acres  surrendered  to 
this  pestiferous  production.  Yet  it  is  pleasant  to  look  upon,  as 
was  the  fruit  Eve  tasted  and  Adam  ate,  man  being  generally  greed- 
ier in  crime  than  woman.  The  fields  are  laid  out  with  mathemat- 
ical exactness.  The  maguey  plant,  for  that  is  the  name  of  the  pul- 
qui  bearer,  is  a  large  aloe,  with  grand,  broad  green  leaves,  very  broad 
and  very  green.  The  plants  stand  about  ten  feet  apart,  in  rows 
twenty  feet  from  each  other,  so  that  the  field  looks  like  a  nursery 
of  dark,  lustrous  green  bushes.  You  can  see  down  these  green 
alleys  sometimes  for  miles  in  this  clearest  of  airs.  They  radiate 
regularly  from  every  plant,  a  perpetual  chess-board  of  tropical  lux- 
uriance. They  are  of  various  stages  of  growth,  from  the  infant  of 
days  to  the  patriarch  of  seven  to  ten  years. 

The  latter  is  about  to  yield  his  white  heart  for  the  delight  and 
ruin  of  the  people.  He  is  about  four  feet  high,  sometimes  more, 
and  spreads  over  as  much  or  more  from  the  short,  thick,  bulb-like 
stem.  Sometimes  he  is  ripe  at  eight  years,  more  usually  ten.  The 
owners  thus  gather  a  crop  from  one-eighth  to  one-tenth  of  their 
shrubs  annually.  When  it  is  ripe,  they  thrust  the  knife  near  or 
into  the  root,  so  as  to  prevent  its  farther  growth.  The  leaves  fall 
over,  the  bowl-like  centre  swells  with  the  juices  pressing  into  it. 
It  looks  of  the  capacity  of  a  couple  of  water-pails.  This  is  of  a 
milky  look,  and  sweet,  it  is  said,  at  this  time.  It  is  taken  out  twice 
a  day  for  four  months,  so  that  one  good  plant  yields  four  or  five 
hundred  gallons  of  this  substance. 

This  is  put  into  ox-skins,  a  little  of  the  old  pulqui  is  added  for 
fermentation,  and  the  new  is  made  worse.  So  delicate  is  this  sub- 
stance at  the  start,  that  a  pinch  of  salt  or  any  other  mal-affinity  will 
destroy  the  whole  crop  if  it  is  put  into  one  of  these  skins  and  gets 
passed  from  one  to  another.  An  overseer,  being  dismissed,  took 
this  sweet  (or  sour)  revenge  on  his  master,  and  by  one  drop  of 
acid,  or  salt,  spoiled  a  crop  worth  a  thousand  dollars.  He  was  ar- 
rested and  imprisoned  for  this  petty  but  powerful  revenge. 

If  it  is  so  sensitive  when  young,  it  gets  bravely  over  it,  for  a  more 
disgustingly  smelling  and  tasting  substance  than  it  is  when  old  the 


136  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

depravity  of  man  has  never  yet  discovered.  Rotten  eggs  are  fra- 
grant to  its  odor,  and  pigs'  swill  sweet  to  its  taste.  I  wish  that 
overseer  would  go  into  the  business  of  spoiling  the  crops,  and 
drive  the  whole  iniquity  from  the  face  of  the  land  and  the  face  of 
the  people.  It  has  a  sweet  cider  taste  in  the  days  of  its  youth,  but 
rapidly  corrupts  as  that  does,  only  worse,  the  climate  being  hotter, 
into  a  sour,  stinking,  abominable  beverage. 

What  would  Dr.  Bowditch  do  with  this  tropical  drunkenness? 
He  says  lust  is  the  vice  of  tropics,  liquor  of  the  temperate  zones. 
As  he  would  encourage,  with  modifications,  the  latter  in  Boston,  of 
course  he  must  the  former  in  Mexico.  Yet  here  is  drunkenness 
as  bad  as  any  in  Ireland,  Germany,  England,  or  the  United  States, 
and  on  a  tropical  plant  of  the  country.  He  had  better  move  his 
Board  of  Un-health  here,  and  proceed  to  sit  on  this  phenomenon. 
It  will  all  be  owed,  I  suppose  he  will  say,  to  the  lofty  height  of  this 
table-land,  which  puts  it  in  a  temperate  zone.  "  Logic  is  logic, 
that's  all  I  say." 

Another  peculiar  and  proper  quality  of  this  plant  is  its  animal 
productions  ;  at  least  so  I  was  informed,  but  I  doubt  the  infor- 
mation. These  are  said  to  be  three  :  a  white  rat,  a  white,  and 
a  brown  worm.  These  nice  creatures  are  made  great,  like  Caesar, 
by  what  they  feed  on  j  and,  according  to  these  people,  are  ahead 
of  Caesar,  for  they  are  not  only  great  but  good.  They  are  served 
up  as  delicacies  to  rich  and  poor.  Fried  worms  and  broiled  rat 
would  make  a  proper  accompaniment  to  pulqui.  My  informant 
rejoiced  himself  in  the  name  of  Julius  Cassar.  He  was  also  a  fa- 
mous cook.  The  punster  of  the  crowd  objected  to  this  Diet  of 
Worms.     But  it  was  rat-ion al. 

Hills  rise  on  our  left,  as  we  move  north  by  east,  well  clad  in  the 
hot  and  purple  sunlight,  well  stripped  of  all  other  drapery  ;  an  aque- 
duct half  a  mile  long  strides  across  a  deep  gully,  bearing  water  af- 
ter the  high  Roman  fashion,  from  Pachuquita,  or  Little  Pachuca,  to 
Omatuska.  The  half-way  station  is  only  a  stopping-place  under  the 
trees,  with  a  pulqui  shop  and  a  fruit-stand  on  the  ground,  of  bana- 
nas, oranges,  and  pea-nuts.    A  cavalcade  of  horses  drives  up.    Are 


THE    GOVERNOR'S  HACIENDA.  I37 

they  robbers  ?  Here  is  where  they  congregate.  They  look  enough 
like  them  "  to  fill  the  bill,"  as  they  say  out  West.  Well  got  up  in 
light-brown  leather  trowsers,  with  silvered  buttons  and  loops  close- 
ly running  up  the  sides,  wide,  gray  felt  sombreros,  silver  trappings 
on  horses  ;  they  evidently  need  money  and  have  not  much.  Will 
they  make  our  littles  into  their  mickle  ? 

They  turn  out  protectors  rather  than  robbers,  a  mistake  made 
often  in  this  doubting  world.  They  are  a  blessing  in  disguise. 
The  road  is  dangerous  a  few  leagues  onward,  and  they  are  sent  as 
an  escort.  Poor  escort  they  prove,  for  they  gallop  on  ahead,  and 
that  is  the  last  we  see  of  the  gay  riders. 

The  next  hacienda,  where  the  clanger  chiefly  lies,  is  owned  by  the 
governor  of  the  State  of  Hidalgo  ;  and,  it  is  said,  by  way  of  slan- 
der undoubtedly,  that  he  lets  the  robbers  pillage  the  coach  along 
the  line  of  his  farm,  if  they  will  leave  that  alone.  Even  so,  I  re- 
member it  was  correctly  reported  at  a  seminary  where  I  once 
served,  that  a  shrewd  old  farmer  of  the  neighborhood  was  said  to 
have  kept  his  orchards  untouched  by  leading  the  students,  who  had 
too  much  of  the  old  Adam  and  Eve  in  them,  to  the  choicest  apple- 
trees  in  his  neighbor's  orchards.  At  any  rate,  his  splendid  orchard 
never  seemed  touched  by  that  school  frost,  and  the  others  often 
were.  Whether  the  story  of  this  governor  or  that  farmer  is  true 
or  not,  quicn  sabe  ? 

All  I  know  is,  that  his  place,  like  the  other's  orchard,  is  by  far 
the  finest  in  the  country.  The  maguey  plant  stretches  for  miles 
in  perfect  order  and  beauty.  Barley  and  wheat,  and  other  crops 
green  with  youth,  or  yellow  with  age,  spread  out  lovely  to  the  eye. 
A  rich,  dark  hollow  of  earth,  circled  by  a  darker  if  not  richer  rim 
of  earth,  five  to  eight  miles  across,  a  piece  of  landscape  held  in  the 
hollow  of  your  eye,  if  not  the  hollow  of  your  hand,  made  a  gem  in 
centre  and  setting,  such  as  one  rarely  sees,  especially  when  the 
flashing  Southern  sun,  pouring  through  a  brisk  and  stimulating  at- 
mosphere, in  this  rare  ether  over  eight  thousand  feet  above  the  sea, 
made  the  gem  yet  more  radiant  and  transparent.  T  well-nigh  en- 
vied the  governor  his  spot,  robbers  and  pulqui  included. 


10 


138  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

A  few  miles  round  a  spur  brings  us  in  sight  of  Pachuca.  Real  del 
Monte  had  long  been  visible,  and  the  high,  dark  range  of  which  it  is 
a  mere  point  of  silver.  A  lowlier  range  hid  the  city.  It  appears 
now,  lying  along  the  base  of  that  black  and  treeless  mass,  a  collec- 
tion of  low,  white  roofs,  with  a  church  or  two  towering  with  dome 
and  steeple ;  they  use  both  always  here,  though  the  steeple  never 
terminates  with  a  spire.  The  only  decent  object  in  these  cities, 
sometimes  the  only  visible  object  seen  from  a  distance,  is  the 
church.  Every  thing  is  unduly  abased  in  order  that  that  may  be 
unduly  exalted.  Our  school -houses,  capitols,  and  tall  dwellings 
and  stores,  make  our  beautiful  spires  chiefs  among  associates,  not 
solitary  masters  of  an  enslaved  population. 

But  Pachuca  has  one  sight  that  outshines  its  churches.  In  front 
of  it  lies  a  valley  of  exquisite  beauty.  The  trees  and  plants  stud 
it  thick  with  emeralds.  A  paradise  the  Persians  would  call  it — 
why  not  we  ?  The  verdure  spreads  out  for  a  mile  or  two,  and  per- 
fectly completes  the  picture  of  the  tall,  brown  mountains  that  over- 
hang the  town,  and  the  white  walls  that  hug  their  lower  declivities. 
Brown,  white,  and  green  glow  together  in  this  summer  afternoon  of 
January.  Oh,  ye  frozen  and  sepulchred  home  folks,  a  white  ceme- 
tery of  Nature,  with  icy  winds  raving  over  it,  how  rapturous  this  de- 
licious landscape  !  How  I  regret  that  you  are  not  here  to  enjoy  it 
— that  the  North  could  not  be  transported,  body  and  business,  to 
this  dulcet  clime  for  six  months  of  every  year ! 

You  are  needed  ;  for  this  exquisite  paradise  is  as  full  of  devils  as 
the  primal  one,  when  man  had  gone  over  to  the  enemy.  It  is  not 
very  safe  to  walk  its  streets  on  Sunday,  and  hardly  possible  at  mid- 
night. So  "the  trail  of  the  serpent  is  over  it  all."  You  may  pre- 
fer your  icy  atmosphere  and  snowy  covering  with  peace,  safety,  com- 
fort, and  prosperity,  a  life  in  death,  to  this  tropical  glory,  with  its 
assassinations  and  robberies,  a  death  in  life.  All  things  are  equal, 
after  all. 

We  ride  to  the  hotel,  but  are  met  by  Mr.  Comargo,  the  superin- 
tendent of  the  mines,  who  invites  us  to  the  Casa  Grande,  or  Grand 
House,  belonging  to  the  company,  at  which  place  this  story  began. 


IXSPECTION  OF   THE  MINE. 


J39 


We  pass  under  its  heavy  portal  of  barred  gates  of  wood  and  thin 
iron,  and  past  the  large  guard  that,  armed  and  equipped,  protects 
the  entrance,  into  a  large,  square,  open  court.  Up  the  broad  stairs, 
with  their  gilt  and  burnished  balustrades,  among  rich  tropical  plants 
and  flowers,  we  ascend  to  the  balcony.  Here  the  conductor,  as  he 
is  called,  meets  us,  a  small,  gentlemanly  person,  and  makes  his 
house  our  own.  Elegant  apartments  open  on  every  side  of  this 
court,  and  abundant  flowers  line  the  entire  balcony. 

"  We  have  lighted  on  our  feet,"  exclaims  one  of  the  party.  No- 
body, for  once,  disagrees  with  the  observation,  the  only  point  of 
agreement  in  all  the  journey. 

Dusty  garments  are  brushed,  and  dusty  faces  washed,  and  we 
mount  horses  for  a  ride  up  the  side  of  the  mountain  to  a  mine. 
Horses  before  us,  horses  behind  us,  horses  to  the  right  of  us,  horses 
to  the  left  of  us ;  thus  we  march  into  the  narrow  streets  and  up 
the  narrower  slips  of  the  hill-side.  A  cavalcade  more  numerous 
than  attends  a  European  monarch  accompanied  these  every-day 
travelers.  Reason  why  ?  Not  that  we  were  more  than  monarchs, 
but  Pachuca  is  less  safe  to  the  conductor  of  its  mines  than  Paris 
ever  was  to  Napoleon.     He  would  be  a  prize  to  the  kidnapers. 

We  inspect  the  outside  of  the  mine,  from  the  crushing  of  the  ore 
to  the  smelting  of  the  silver,  and  return  to  a  sumptuous  dinner,  a 
lively  reunion,  and  a  luscious  bed.  In  its  comfortable  embrace  we 
dream  of  Elysium,  although 

"  We  should  suspect  some  danger  nigh, 
Where  we  possess  delight." 

Our  first  peril  is  past,  Pachuca  is  reached.  Our  second  cometh 
quickly. 

Just  after  we  reached  the  town,  on  Saturday  afternoon,  we  passed 
a  building  near  the  little  plaza  with  "  Miners'  Arms  "  over  its  door. 
It  looked  Englishy  English  to  the  last  degree.  Some  equally  En- 
glishy  English  persons  stood  before  the  door.  They  noticed  we 
were  strangers,  and  one  of  them,  a  tall,  plainly-dressed  person,  came 
across  the  street  and  spoke  to  us.     He  had  heard  that  a  Methodist 


I4o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

preacher  was  coming  to  spend  the  Sabbath,  and  he  made  a  dash 
at  random  at  this  couple,  hoping  to  bag  that  game.  He  succeeded. 
It  was  a  Mr.  Prout,  for  whom  I  had  a  letter  of  introduction.  He 
accompanied  us  to  the  Casa,  and  then  sought  out  an  elder  member, 
Richard  Rule,  Esq.,  who  for  years  had  had  preaching  and  class- 
meeting  at  his  house.  To  show  the  peril  of  the  place,  that  night 
he  was  sent  for  to  come  and  see  about  arrangements  for  Sabbath 
services.  Guards  were  sent  to  accompany  him  to  the  Casa,  and  to 
accompany  him  home  again.  Yet  in  the  day-time  there  is  but  little 
if  any  clanger. 

The  next  morning  I  attended  a  class-meeting  at  Richard  Rule's. 
It  met  at  eight  o'clock.  But  the  long  ride  and  the  late  night  made 
me  a  little  late,  and  the  venerable  leader  was  at  prayer  when  I 
entered.  It  seemed  strange  to  hear  the  voice  of  prayer  in  a  Sun- 
day-morning class  in  this  far-off  land  in  our  own  tongue.  And  yet 
it  seemed  not  unnatural.  A  full  and  devout  petition  it  was,  cover- 
ing all  the  ground,  as  if  the  fewness  of  the  number  present  allowed 
larger  liberty  to  each  utterance.  It  was  eminently  Scriptural  in 
form,  as  all  English  prayers  are,  and  rich  in  faith,  in  humility,  and 
in  assurance.  The  one  other  English  peculiarity  it  also  exhibited, 
devotion  to  fatherland.  He  prayed  for  the  "  favored  land  of  their 
birth  "  and  "  for  the  benighted  land  "  in  which  they  dwelt.  That 
feeling  is  wrought  deeper  in  English  nature  than  in  that  of  any 
other  people.  America  unconsciously  copies  it,  but  does  not  sur- 
pass it. 

Four  members,  all  males,  gave  testimony  to  a  present  and  a  full 
salvation,  and  responses  showed  the  warmth  of  the  heart  still  on 
fire  with  God's  love. 

It  was  good  to  be  there.  No  mine  in  all  this  richest  district  of 
the  earth  was  so  rich  as  this,  nay,  was  infinitely  less  rich.  These 
had  searched  for  wisdom  as  for  hid  treasures,  and  had  found  her : 

"  Wisdom  divine,  who  tells  the  price 
Of  wisdom's  costly  merchandise  ? 
Wisdom  to  silver  we  prefer, 
And  gold  is  dross,  compared  with  her." 


SERVICES  IN  ENGLISH  AND  SPANISH.  I4I 

How  rich  these  poor  men  were.  Only  one  possessed  any  means 
or  mines.  Yet  all  were  rejoicing  in  eternal  and  infinite  treasure- 
houses,  laid  up  by  the  same  Redeemer  who  stored  these  mounts 
with  silver,  in  that  Mount  of  God,  His  Royal  Mount,  the  Real  del 
Monte  of  the  heavens  and  the  universe,  for  all  those  who  love  and 
serve  Him. 

The  house  of  Mr.  Rule  stands  in  a  garden,  with  large,  luscious 
plants  blooming  about.  The  oleander,  banana,  fig,  and  unknown 
trees  and  blooms  fill  the  retreat  with  life  and  loveliness.  High 
walls  hide  it  from  the  passer's  eyes.  It  is  secluded  and  central. 
I  have  quite  fallen  in  love  with  these  dead  walls  without,  and 
beauty,  luxury,  and  comfort  within.  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  not  an 
improvement  on  our  system,  more  open  without,  and  less  secluded 
within.     Not  as  you  are  in  your  winter-bound  firesides, 

"  Shut  in 
By  the  tumultuous  privacy  of  storm," 

but  by  a  privacy  which  makes  a  perpetual  summer  for  your  private 
pleasure,  though  this  sometimes  shuts  out  a  tumult  worse  than 
snow  ever  creates.  It  makes  the  street  unlovely,  but  not  the  home. 
These  rough  walls  and  gates  open  on  luxury  and  repose.  The 
high  wall  is  not  needed  to  make  this  picture.  The  gardens  might 
be  open  to  all  eyes,  and  the  court-yard  only  be  for  home  consump- 
tion. 

At  eleven  o'clock  Rev.  Mr.  Parks,  the  Bible  Agent,  preached  to 
a  goodly  congregation  on  "  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us  ;" 
and  at  two,  another  full  house  gathered  to  attend  the  third  serv- 
ice of  the  day.  "  Whom  having  not  seen  ye  love,"  is  the  text 
dwelt  upon,  the  counterpart  and  complement  of  the  morning's 
discourse.  The  baptism  of  three  infants,  and  the  administration 
of  the  Lord's  Supper  to  seven  persons,  prolongs  the  service  till  four 
o'clock.     The  full  house  sits  solemn  and  reverent  to  the  close. 

A  service  in  Spanish  follows,  conducted  by  Dr.  Guerro,  a  physi- 
cian of  the  place.  It  is  not  so  full  as  usual,  owing  to  the  length  of 
the  preceding  meeting,  but  there  is  a  fair  assemblage.  Some  fine- 
looking  young  men  participated.     The  service  has  been  compiled 


14; 


OUR  A'EXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


by  him  from  that  of  Dr.  Riley,  and  is  entitled  "El  Culto  de  la 
Iiilesia  Reformada  en  Pachuca."  It  is  orthodox  and  devout.  But 
the  service  needs  more  liberty  extemporaneously,  and  besides 
needs  additions  of  prayer,  and  social  and  class  meetings,  and  Sun- 
day-schools.    It  is  the  seed,  but  not  the  flower  nor  fruit. 

The  conductor  of  the  meeting  is  a  Protestant  against  Romanism, 
and,  like  most  of  that  class  here,  has  not  yet  advanced  much  be- 
yond the  first  principles  of  that  protest. 

The  elaboration  of  the  Christian  system,  independent  of  all  the 
previous  errors  and  formalities,  into  a  life  and  being  of  its  own — 
this  work  is  yet  to  be  done.  It  needs  organization,  Church  order, 
breadth,  life.  It  will  come,  and  that  speedily.  It  was  delightful 
to  find  in  this  mountain  town,  and  among  this  degraded  and  de- 
praved population,  a  godly  few  casting  off  the  shackles  of  a  false 
culture,  and  forming  a  reformed  Church.  May  they  speedily  re- 
generate the  town. 

We  come  back  to  our  agreeable  quarters  across  the  plaza,  which 
from  our  first  crossing  it  in  the  morning  until  now  has  been  crowd- 
ed with  sellers  and  buyers.  The  pavement  is  lined  with  rows  of 
merchant-men  and  merchant-women  with  every  sort  of  ware — fruit, 
fish,  flesh,  coal,  grasses,  trinkets,  muslins,  toys  —  a  Vanity  Fair  of 
Sunday  desecration.  The  stores  under  the  arcade  are  equally 
busy.  The  church  is  open,  and  has  its  two  services  a  day,  but  the 
crowds  are  in  the  market-place,  and  the  devil  holds  his  service  all 
the  day. 

He  is  represented  in  a  huge,  gross  picture  in  the  church  on  the 
plaza  with  a  smashing  tail,  a  good  deal  longer  than  his  body,  driv- 
ing the  .sinful  ghosts  to  hell.  He  is  out  here  in  calico  and  cloth, 
in  a  white,  dirty  woolen  blanket,  dropping  down  before  and  behind, 
with  a  slit  in  the  middle,  through  which  the  head  is  passed,  in  thin 
blue  cloth  mantillas  that  cover  the  woman's  head  and  shoulders 
and  mouth.  Here  he  is  buying  and  selling,  and  getting  gain  and 
loss.  Let  the  true  Church  of  Christ  arise  and  abate  this  crime  that 
smells  to  heaven. 

I  was  not  a  little  wearied  with  this   long  day's  work.      From 


AN  ARMED  ESCORT.  I43 

eight  to  five,  with  scarce  an  intermission,  had  I  been  attending  to 
the  Lord's  business.  A  summer  day,  sultry  as  August,  yet  not  op- 
pressive, it  has  been  a  day  of  delights,  "where  no  crude  surfeit 
reigns." 

The  hills  look  soft  in  that  sacred  setting,  and  the  fields  did  not 
strive  in  vain  to  look  gay.  They  looked  so  without  striving.  The 
air  was  blessed,  and  I  rejoiced  to  think  that  this  ancient  and  rich 
realm  would  yet  be  the  mount  of  the  Lord,  and  its  silver  flow  forth 
for  the  salvation  of  the  world. 

Monday  comes,  and  with  it  the  old  again,  to  offset  the  new  of 
yesterday.  The  champing  of  bits  and  trampling  of  steeds  below 
is  a  signal  that  we  are  invited  to  a  ride.  A  ride  is  a  small  affair 
ordinarily  in  America,  and  even  in  Europe  to-day,  but  not  at  the 
Casa  Grande.  The  lord  of  the  casa,  Senor  Comargo,  descends 
the  stairway,  with  pistol  in  his  belt  and  a  girdle  of  ball-cartridges 
about  him.  His  horse  has  gun  and  sword  hanging  at  its  saddle- 
bow. Five  visitors  follow  —  two  less  powerfully  armed,  and  two 
with  no  weapons  save  their  tongues.  Three  horsemen  precede 
this  company,  and  twelve  follow.  A  carriage  and  four  mules  are 
provided  for  any  two  of  the  party  that  may  wish  to  accept  the  new 
style  instead  of  the  old.  Thus  protected  and  equipped,  we  ride 
through  the  awakening  town. 

Why  all  this  display?  Not  for  display.  This  is  the  old,  be- 
cause here  the  old  still  exists.  This  city  is  full  of  robbers,  and  so 
is  the  country.  It  is  the  chief  mining  centre  of  this  region,  and 
has  only  one  equal  in  all  this  country.  The  building  is  the  head- 
quarters of  the  mining  company.  It  has  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  its  vaults  every  fortnight.  This  it  must  transport  sixty 
miles  to  Mexico.  The  reckless  marauders  of  these  hills  long  for 
these  hid  treasures  more  than  for  those  still  concealed  in  the  earth 
all  about  them.  They  have  attacked  the  building  once  and  again, 
and  sometimes  in  large  force,  three  to  four  hundred  men.  They 
would  attack  the  commandant,  or  conductor,  as  he  is  the  chief  rep- 
resentative of  the  company,  and  his  capture  might  be  worth  many 
thousands  to  his  kidnapers.     Only  last  week,  in  company  with  four 


144  0UR   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

of  his  horsemen,  he  broke  through  a  band  of  thirty-five  robbers, 
under  a  famous  bandit  leader,  killing  one  and  wounding  several 
others. 

This  company  has  some  valuable  nuggets  for  such  marauders. 
Here  is  the  president  of  the  nearly  finished  Vera  Cruz  Railway, 
Mr.  Gibbs,  of  England,  as  witty  as  he  is  wise,  and  wise  as  he  is  wit- 
ty, one  of  the  least  "  stuck  up  "  of  well-educated  Englishmen  1 
have  ever  met.  He  is  a  representative  of  Oxford  scholarship  and 
London  business.  He  can  scan  Greek  lines  or  Mexican  land- 
scapes with  equal  accuracy.  He  confesses  to  England's  aristo- 
cratic detestation  of  the  Yankee  until  the  war  compelled  her  to 
see,  first,  that  we  had  pluck ;  second,  success ;  and  third,  and  log- 
ically, that  we  were  right.  That  is  the  usual  construction  of  an 
Englishman's  syllogism,  pluck  first,  principle  last.  Then,  of  course, 
we  ceased  to  be  whittling,  nasal  Yankees,  and  turned  into  gentle- 
men. He  breaks  forth  at  the  mouth,  like  all  punsters,  and  makes 
fun  for  the  million  (of  dollars)  that  rides  at  his  side. 

The  head  of  the  house  of  Rosecrans,  a  rival  railroad  enterprise, 
is  also  here — General  Palmer,  self-contained,  ready  to  thrust  the 
point  of  an  argument  into  his  antagonist,  as  whilom  the  point  of 
his  sword,  and  that  as  this  without  malice,  though  now  as  then  unto 
the  death. 

Mr.  Parish,  the  learned  and  traveled  member  of  the  party,  is  at 
home  equally  in  the  best  modern  languages  and  modern  society. 
It  is  a  striking  evidence  of  the  union  of  culture  and  business,  these 
polished  and  highly-educated  gentlemen  on  railroad  thoughts  in- 
tent. It  shows,  what  ought  to  be  the  case  more  and  more,  the  best 
university  training  a  preliminary  to  the  entrance  into  every  pro- 
fession. 

The  agent  of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  a  Congrega- 
tional clergyman,  is  the  fourth  ;  whom,  as  he  is  lying  awake  on  his 
bed  in  the  room  where  I  am  now  writing,  it  will  not  answer  to  say 
much  about,  or  I  should  see  the  sheeted  living,  as  Caesar  did  the 
"  sheeted  dead,"  walking  the  floor  and  squaring  off.  England  and 
America,  despite  Geneva  decisions  and  the  peace  societies,  would 


A    GARDEiV  OF  BEAUTY.  I45 

be  at  war.  He  is  well  satisfied  with  England,  at  least  when  talk- 
ing with  an  American,  though  I  doubt  not  he  will  set  forth  all 
those  American  arguments  as  to  Britain's  conditions  and  needs 
when  he  gets  back  to  "Our  Old  Home,"  and  will  forget,  perhaps, 
to  put  in  the  quotation  marks.  He  is  doing  an  excellent  work 
here  in  planting  the  Bible  over  the  land. 

The  last  who  mounts  the  horse,  and  who  rides  vuiy  vial  (you 
do  not  know  but  that  that  means  very  good,  and  I  shall  not  tell  you 
that  it  means  very  bad),  is  not,  perhaps,  representing  his  fellow-min- 
isters so  much  in  their  horse-riding  reputation  as  in  eating  and  en- 
during. He  is  seeking  out  this  land  for  the  Church,  as  his  associ- 
ates are  for  the  Bible  and  the  railway,  a  threefold  cord  which  is  not 
easily  broken,  and  which  will  yet  make  this  beautiful  clime  "bound 
with  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God." 

The  road  ascends  the  mountain  side.  For  two  thousand  feet 
and  two  leagues  it  winds  and  climbs.  The  basin  of  Pachuca  lies 
below,  soft  in  the  brown  morning,  yet  unkissed  of  the  sun,  which 
yellows  the  eastern  sky,  but  does  not  glow  upon  its  mountain-tops. 
The  green  trees,  flowers,  and  maguey  plant  make  a  garden  of  beau- 
ty of  that  basin,  lying  low  in  the  hollow  of  treeless  hills,  "  rock-rib- 
bed and  ancient  as  the  sun."  It  is  less  luxuriant  than  the  woods 
and  ferns  of  the  Hot  Lands,  but  its  contrast  with  the  inclosing  hill- 
sides and  the  brisk  September  air  makes  its  verdant  loveliness  all 
the  more  lovely. 

The  mountains  are  without  forest,  but  a  purple  verdure  covers 
them  —  a  royal  mantle  of  sunlight  and  shadow,  dewy,  tender,  vel- 
vety. Not  since  I  looked  on  Hymettus  and  Pentelicus  have  I  seen 
such  a  rich  hue  clothe  barren  mountains.  The  composition  of  the 
rock  has  something  to  do  with  it ;  the  purple  of  porphyry  imparts 
its  color  to  the  hills. 

Iztaccihuatl  glitters  on  the  point  of  its  snowy  lance.  There  is 
some  debate  as  to  which  of  the  three  ice  mountains  it  is,  and  so 
the  poet  of  the  company  —  for  "we  keeps  our  poet,"  like  Day  & 
Martin  —  breaks  forth  in  rhymes  on  each  of  the  trio.  First,  he 
exclaims, 


I46  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

Why  all  this  palaver 
About  Orizava  ?* 

Then  adds,  toastingly  and  drunkenly, 

We'll  tip  the  brandy-bottle 
To  old  Iztaccihuatl. 

And  teetotally  concludes, 

We'll  drain  our  water-kettle 
To  Popocatepetl. 

Of  course  he  would  have  gone  on  thus  all  clay  had  he  not  been 
held  in.  He  was  pouring  forth  the  terrible  rhymes  as  if  they  were 
avalanches.  "  Slaver  "  it  was  found  would  rhyme  and  reason  with 
this  Orizava,  and  "  throttle  "  had  to  be  put  to  the  voluble  neck  of 
this  Iztaccihuatl ;  while  a  lot  of  mispronounced  rhymes,  such  as 
"settle,"  "met  ill,"  "nettle,"  and  so  on,  were  being  mustered  into 
the  service  of  the  grand  old  monarch  of  Mexico.  It  was  time  to 
stop  the  rhymed  nonsense,  and  it  stopped.  Sober  debates  on  tem- 
perance and  other  good  themes  came  to  the  front. 

The  light  slides  down  the  mountain  ("  coasts,"  as  a  Yankee  ought 
to  say),  down  its  smooth  and  lustrous  sides,  and  soon  fills  all  the 
hollow  of  the  hills  with  splendor.  The  soul  sends  its  shafts  of  light 
upward  as  those  of  the  soulless  world  fall  downward,  and  in  silent 
prayer  and  praise  ascribes  the  honor,  and  glory,  and  dominion,  and 
power  thus  seen,  and  the  infinitely  more  and  greater  not  seen,  unto 
Him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  forever. 

One  side  of  the  roadway  leaps  clown  sheer  and  profound,  and  the 
other  opens  ravines,  or  descends  in  mountain  slopes,  where  easily 
"the  robber  rends  his  prey"  from  the  slowly-climbing  coach  and 
rider.  There  is  a  thicket  of  bushes  at  one  of  these  bends,  which 
is  their  favorite  haunt,  and  yet  no  one  thinks  of  the  simple  reme- 
dy of  cutting  up  that  ambuscade.  Fifteen  minutes  and  a  hatchet 
would  destroy  that  fortification.    Why  is  it  not  done  ?     Quien  sabe? 

*  "B"  and  "v"  are  pronounced  exactly  alike  by  the  natives;  so  the  word 
Orizaba  is  pronounced  as  in  this  couplet. 


A   FEUDAL  STRONGHOLD. 


147 


Two  hours  of  such  slow  and  steadfast  climbing  bring  the  feudal 
cavalcade  to  the  Real  Castle,  or  the  Castle  of  the  Real. 

Here  a  yet  more  feudal  incident  increases  the  delusion.  We 
draw  up  to  a  high,  huge  dead  wall  without  a  window.  The  gate 
opens,  and  we  enter.  The  warder  draws  near  and  makes  his  obei- 
sance to  the  conductor,  a  gracious  action  on  the  part  of  each.  A 
low  room,  not  loftier  than  those  usually  seen  in  the  ruined  castles 
of  the  Rhine,  welcomes  us,  and  refreshments  are  served  up.  The 
company  then  proceed  to  inspect  the  castle.  They  kept  saying  to 
each  other,  "  How  completely  feudal !"  "  Was  there  ever  any  thing 
more  perfect?"  "This  is  the  real  article."  "As  it  should  be  on 
the  Real,"  keeps  up  the  execrable  punster. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  building  proper  is  a  well  with  a  windlass 
over  it.  To  the  ropes  of  this  windlass  were  attached  pieces  of  ma- 
guey or  hemp  sack,  a  quarter  of  a  yard  wide,  made  into  a  sort  of 
seat.  In  this  seat  sat  the  workmen,  and,  clinging  to  the  rope,  were 
let  down  ten  or  twelve  hundred  feet,  "poco  mas  y  mows"  as  they  all 
say  here  to  every  thing  ("  a  little  more  or  less)."  They  are  let  down 
and  dragged  up  every  day. 

Still  fancying  I  had  entered  a  castle,  and  a  little  bewildered  by 
this  mode  of  treating  its  inmates,  I  was  led  to  a  court  with  rooms 
long  and  wide  opening  out  of  it,  and  long  benches  stretching  on 
either  side  against  the  walls,  which  had  that  horrid  odor  that  be- 
longs to  the  wards  of  a  prison,  and  which  is  unlike  any  other  smell. 
Another  step,  and  a  barred  door,  heavy  and  thick,  made  of  cross- 
pieces  that  let  in  the  light  and  air,  but  not  liberty,  revealed  the  fact 
that  this  mediaeval  castle  was  indeed  a  prison.  So  its  looks  did 
not  deceive  itself.  That  well  was  to  let  down  criminals  to  work  in 
the  mines. 

It  took  off  the  edge  of  our  vanity  a  little  to  learn  this  fact.  The 
castle  is  reduced  in  vocation,  though  not  in  manners.  Don  Quix- 
ote can  fancy  it  a  castle,  though  it  be  only  a  presidio.  Those  straps 
of  maguey  fibre,  in  which  they  were  let  down  that  thousand  feet, 
were  homeopathic  in  their  nature.  Pulqui  brought  them  here,  and 
the  fibre  of  its  leaf  drops  them  there.     I  had  seen  pits  like  this  in 


I48  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

European  castles,  as  black  and  bottomless  seemingly,  where  they 
dropped  their  victims,  to  be  brought  up,  not  as  these  are  at  night- 
fall, but  in  the  morn  only  of  the  Resurrection. 

In  two  of  the  cells  were  three  leading  bandits  of  the  country 
awaiting  execution.  I  only  saw  one  of  them.  He  was  a  youth  of 
twenty,  fair-faced,  smooth-faced,  with  calm  manners  and  a  mild 
dark  eye :  so  pretty  a  lad  one  rarely  sees.  Is  it  possible  that  he 
is  a  chief  murderer?  Even  so.  Appearances  here,  as  elsewhere, 
are  deceitful.  Yet  not  so.  Leaders  are  rarely  demonstrative  men. 
Byron  was  not  at  fault  in  describing  human  nature  when  he  painted 

his  chief  cut-throat  as 

"  The  mildest-mannered  man 
That  ever  scuttled  ship  or  cut  a  throat ;" 

and  describes  him  on  a  balmy  eve  as  he  leans  over  the  taffrail  and 

"  Looks  upon  the  flood  : 
His  thoughts  were  calm,  but  were  of  blood." 

This  youth's  mien  and  meditation  were  alike  calm  and  bloody. 
He  would  have  put  a  shot  through  the  warden  as  briskly  and  gay- 
ly  as  through  a  bird.  He  was  trained  in  crime,  and,  though  still 
beardless,  was  gray  in  guilt.  How  many  of  our  worst  offenders  ac- 
complish their  end  before  they  reach  a  ripe  manhood  !  The  gal- 
lows has  more  victims  under  thirty  than  over.  Sin  ripens  fast,  and 
the  lad  of  fifteen  who  casts  off  parental  restraint  and  plunges  into 
vice,  before  he  is  twenty-five  is  apt  to  die  a  debauchee  or  a  demon. 
Christ  and  the  devil  recruit  their  forces  from  the  youth.  A  Chris- 
tian or  a  criminal  is  the  decision  usuallv  made  before  the  twenties 

J 

are  touched.  Despise  not  the  converted  boy.  Nurse  his  childish 
piety,  lest  it  become  youthful  impiety  ere  you  are  aware. 

Sadly  we  left  the  fair  young  face,  so  soon  to  be  mould  and  dust, 
and  came  into  the  bright  sunshine.  How  gloomily  glowered  that 
sun  !  The  prison  was  no  longer  a  palace,  but  a  tomb.  We  gladly 
mount  and  ride  awav  from  the  grim  recesses.  You  have  had 
enough  of  the  Old  ;  now  again  for  the  New. 

As  we  emerge  into  the  outer  air  our  eyes  light  on  chimneys,  tall 


THE   COST  OF  MINING.  I4n 

and  numerous,  scattered  up  and  down  the  steep  hill-sides.  My 
English  companions  thought  they  had  seen  the  like  in  Yorkshire. 
Yet  the  chief  if  not  only  likeness  is  in  the  chimneys,  and  in  the 
fact  that  they  are  used  in  running  steam-engines  of  immense 
bulk,  which  are  engaged  in  pumping  water  out  of  the  mines. 
This  was  the  New.  No  such  contrivances  had  the  cavalcades  of 
the  Old  times  ever  seen.  One  of  these  engines,  of  two  thousand 
horse-power,  is  beautifully  lifting  its  ponderous  arms,  as  polished 
and  quiet  as  is  its  Manchester  builder.  It  is  an  evidence  of  the 
superiority  of  our  age.  Two  thousand  horse-power  there  in  that 
engine,  twenty  in  this  escort :  one  hundred  times  is  the  New  above 
the  Old  ! 

It  is  z.festa  day,  and  the  natives  are  idling  round.  But  the  en- 
gines are  busy,  being  worked  by  Englishmen,  who  know  no  festas 
but  Sundays  and  Christmas.  A  bull -fight  is  to  come  off,  and  es- 
pecial stir  among  the  natives  is  evident.  If  they  would  fight  their 
sins,  and  idleness,  and  errors  of  faith,  and  other  infirmities,  half  as 
zealously  as  they  fight  the  harmless  bulls,  they  would  "  get  on,"  as 
our  English  friends  say,  vastly  more  ;  but  religious  error  stifles  all 
energy,  order,  and  improvement. 

These  immense  engines  teach  us  the  costliness  of  the  mining 
business.  It  may  be  an  easy  matter  to  prospect  a  mine,  but  it  is 
not  so  easy  a  matter  to  work  it.  That  costs  a  fortune,  and  reduces 
this  royal  business  to  the  common  level  of  farming  and  shoe-mak- 
ing. After  looking  over  the  works  at  this  spot,  we  take  to  our 
horses,  I  gratefully  getting  a  seat  in  the  carriage,  and  whirl  down 
to  Velasco. 

Six  miles  of  rapid  descent  it  is,  winding  round  and  round  the 
spurs  of  handsomely  wooded  hills,  which  woods  the  steam-devil,  as 
the  Mexicans  call  the  steam-engine,  is  fast  devouring.  In  its  lo- 
comotive form  it  devours  miles ;  in  all  forms,  forests.  The  hills 
are  not  unlike  those  of  Vermont,  but  steeper,  deeper,  and  grand- 
er, with  warmer,  thicker-leaved,  and  darker-tinted  woods.  Some 
of  the  gorges  are  sublime.  Opposite  these  ravines  tower  high, 
blank,  black  mountains,  some  of  which  are  curiously  crowned  with 


150  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

basaltic  rocks,  that  look  like  towers,  laid  in  order  for  up  into  the 
air.  At  times  these  columns  take  possession  of  a  stretch  of  ridge, 
and  make  a  series  of  fortifications  not  unlike  Ehrenbreitstein,  or  a 
range  of  towers  like  a  cathedral.  They  had  shot  their  straight, 
hot  barrels  up  through  the  various  molten  rocks  of  porphyry  and 
granite,  and  capped  the  climax  with  their  rounded  finish. 

Velasco  is  a  fortified  hacienda,  where  the  ores  of  Real  del 
Monte  are  reduced.  These  ores,  being  less  inclined  to  yield  to 
water  than  those  of  Pachuca,  are  here  calcined,  ground  to  powder, 
dropped  from  hoppers  through  leather  tubes  into  strong  barrels, 
which  are  also  filled  with  water,  quicksilver,  sulphate  of  copper, 
and  other  chemicals,  and  a  quantity  of  round  stones  about  the  size 
of  small  paving-stones.  These  are  sent  whirling  round  and  round 
until  the  dissolution  of  the  silver  from  the  soil  is  effected,  when 
the  contents  are  drawn  off.  Below  you  see  the  residuum  of  the 
barrel,  flowing  out  over  troughs  into  bowls  slightly  inclined,  whose 
lower  edge  holds  the  heavy  white  quicksilver,  and  upper,  the  light- 
er and  slower  precious  stuff  which  it  costs  so  much  labor  to  se- 
cure. 

Attached  to  these  works  is  a  handsome  house,  deserted.  No  of- 
ficer dare  live  in  it.  Not  long  since  its  walls  were  scaled  by  a  rob- 
ber band,  though  they  could  find  but  little  booty.  Its  garden  is 
full  of  flowers,  and  I  pluck  a  half-dozen  rose-buds  and  blossoms 
as  a  specimen  of  the  middle  of  January,  which  I  commend  to  my 
frozen  brothers  of  the  North.  They  may  retort  that  that  robber 
thorn  is  worse  than  their  frozen  buds.  I  do  not  deny  it,  but  hope 
when  the  railroad  and  the  churches  of  America  get  possession  of 
the  land  that  the  Mexican  will  be  changed  into  a  Methodist,  or 
better,  if  better  there  be,  as  most  of  these  Englishmen  have  been, 
and  you  can  then  have  no  excuse  for  shivering  below  the  zeroes, 
instead  of  enjoying  perpetual  spring  and  summer,  from  October  to 
April,  among  these  torrid  altitudes. 

Three  leagues  more  over  hill  and  dale,  amidst  an  opening  and 
entrancing  landscape,  now  by  barren  water-courses,  now  along  high 
uplands,  over  which  canter  our  horses.     I  am  on  the  back  again, 


THE   HACIENDA    OF  REG  LA. 


151 


and  likely  to  be  on  my  back  with  this  fierce  and  unused  riding. 
So  we  go  gayly  on  to  Regla. 

The  hills  are  well  stripped  by  the  charcoal  vender  and  the  steam- 
engine  devourer,  and  look  like  some  of  the  brown,  barren,  rocky 
sides  of  New  Hampshire  in  July.  The  sun  pours  a  midday  torrid 
heat  upon  us,  and  makes  us  like  that  too-willing  lass  of  whom  it  is 
said  that,  when  her  lover  said  '"Wilt  thou?'  she  wilted."  So  did 
we,  though  the  heat  that  wilted  us  was  from  without,  and  not  within. 
San  Miguel  shone  out  on  the  plain  below,  said  to  be  one  of  the 
prettiest  of  Mexican  towns.  Our  road  lies  to  the  left,  and  its  beau- 
ty is  left  also.  The  plains  in  which  this  beauty  lingers  stretch 
far  away  to  the  east  and  north,  bounded  by  tall  dark  mountains 
that  seem  to  jealously  guard  the  sleeping  beauty  below.  At  the 
hour  of  noon  our  tired  steeds  and  more  tired  selves  enter  the  gates 
of  the  hacienda  of  Regla. 

This  hacienda  lies  in  a  ravine,  with  a  high  wall  going  up  to  and 
on  its  outer  edge,  and  with  entrances  well  barred  and  guarded. 
Before  its  gate  is  a  fine  fountain,  set  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  flowing 
through  a  lion's  mouth  inserted  in  the  rocks.  Around  the  carved 
stone  rim  of  the  basin  women  and  children  are  filling  their  water- 
pots.  The  water  tastes  delicious  after  our  hot  and  dusty  ride  ;  far 
better,  I  doubt  not,  than  the  brandies  and  other  "  hot  and  rebell- 
ious liquors "  would  have  done,  which  are  still  too  freely  offered, 
and  far  too  freely  imbibed. 

The  English  have  brought  valuable  money  and  men  to  this  coun- 
try, but  have  not  yet  brought  total  abstinence  ;  and  too  many  Amer- 
icans are  still  ashamed  of  that  teetotal  excellence  which,  though  it 
has  not  entirely  conquered  that  land,  has  given  its  laborers  and 
leaders  more  than  half  the  prosperity  and  comfort  they  enjoy.  If 
it  could  come  here  and  drive  out  the  legion  of  devils  which  the  cup 
of  inebriety  introduces,  it  would  be  a  blessing  of  blessings  to  all 
the  people.     Amen,  so  let  it  be  ! 

Leaving  our  horses  at  the  gate,  we  are  led  by  the  house  where 
dinner  (they  call  it  breakfast  here)  is  awaiting  us,  under  vast  arches, 
alongside  of  a  paved  brook,  now  nearly  waterless,  and  whose  blocks 


152  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

look  like  Broadway,  so  smooth  and  even  and  slippery  are  their 
shape  and  aspect.  A  few  rods  farther,  and  we  reach  the  upper 
section  of  the  chasm. 

The  Mexican  Giant's  Causeway  is  before  us.  We  had  regretted 
that  Britain  had  one  advantage  of  America  in  her  celebrated  Fin- 
gal's  Cave,  and  now  we  are  satisfied.  Even  that  crown  is  trans- 
ferred to  our  favored  land.  The  columns  of  basalt  rise  on  each 
side  of  the  ravine  from  seventy-five  to  one  hundred  feet  in  height. 
The  opening  is  a  few  hundred  feet  wide  at  the  mouth,  but  comes 
together  at  the  upper  edge,  with  only  a  slight  chasm,  which  lets  out 
the  waters  of  the  river,  that  tumbles,  a  pretty  cascade,  some  two- 
score  of  feet  into  a  pretty  pool  below.  You  are  fifty  feet  or  so 
above  the  pool.  The  columns  rise  one  hundred  feet  sheer  over 
your  head.  They  are  five-sided,  and  fit  each  to  each  as  close  as 
bricks.  Some  of  the  outer  ones  are  split  and  otherwise  marred ; 
one  or  two  seem  to  have  lost  both  their  head  and  their  heels,  and 
hang  to  their  place  by  a  sort  of  attraction  of  adhesion.  If  that 
gave  way,  the  attraction  of  gravitation  would  topple  them  over  upon 
our  heads — a  not  very  attractive  attraction.  The  debris  of  their 
fallen  fellows  lies  all  about  us.  Each  reveals  a  round  core  of  light 
slate-color,  that  seems  to  have  been  built  around  after  the  pentag- 
onal model.  Where  that  core  came  from,  and  how  it  was  grown 
around,  I  leave  to  those  who  find  sermons  in  stones  to  ascertain. 
I  prefer  less  hardened  subjects. 

There  seems  to  be  no  end  inward  to  the  serried  ranks.  They 
are  packed  close,  and  each  shaft  reveals  others  that  inclose  it,  and 
that  are  ready  to  take  its  place  should  sun  and  shower  cause  it  to 
fall.  If  they  could  be  utilized  by  some  Yankee  for  house  or  monu- 
ment building,  we  should  soon  see  an  end  of  the  exquisite  ravine. 
They  are  slaughtering  the  like  tall  living  shafts  that  have  stood  to- 
gether these  centuries  and  centuries  from  Maine  to  Michigan,  and 
Michigan  to  Mexico.  Thanks  many  {mucJias  graa'as,  to  be  very 
Mexic)  that  they  can  not  cut  these  down,  saw  them  into  stone  lum- 
ber, and  cart  them  away  for  Chicago  and  Boston  burnings.  Just 
penalty  was  that,  for  that  sin  of  ourselves  and  our  fathers? 


I  lil     PALISADES   Ul'    REGLA. 


TRAMPING   OUT  THE  SILVER.  I55 

This  spot,  unheard  of  by  me  unto  this  hour,  unmentioned  by 
any  tourist  I  have  read  (and  I  never  read  one  on  Mexico),  is  now 
formally  introduced  to  the  American  public.  If  you  come  to  Mex- 
ico, come  to  Pachuca;  and  if  to  Pachuca,  to  the  basaltic  ravine  of 
Regla. 

We  lean  over  the  balcony  of  our  hospitable  quarters,  awaiting 
breakfast,  and  see  the  horses  tread  out  the  silver.  A  yard  eighty 
rods  square,  poco  mas  y  tticnos,  is  laid  down  to  this  work.  Beds  of 
black  mud  are  located  over  it,  to  the  untrained  eye  precisely  like 
the  earth  about  it.  But  how  different  to  the  eye  that  is  trained  ! 
This  black  mud  is  silver,  mixed  badly  "with  other  earths,  mixed  also 
with  salt,  sulphate  of  copper,  and  quicksilver,  that,  under  the  pain- 
ful pressure  of  tramping  steeds,  are  to  liberate  it  and  make  it  the 
beauty  and  joy  of  man — and  plague  also,  as  are  mosf  beauties  and 
joys.  Two  hundred  horses  are  engaged  in  tramping  out  the  silver. 
Their  tails  are  shaven,  the  mud  has  splashed  up  on  their  heads  and 
backs,  and  they  look  so  woe-begone,  as  if  their  labor  were  degrading, 
that  it  is  hard  for  the  uninitiated  eye  to  believe  they  are  horses  at 
all.  Mules,  and  even  asses,  they  get  degraded  to.  The  making  of 
silver  seems  to  be  as  debasing  as  much  of  the  spending  of  it  is. 
Eighty  of  these  march  round  one  circle,  five  abreast,  close  together. 
Four  such  circles  employ  over  two  hundred  horses  and  mules. 
Over  three  hundred  and  fifty  are  owned  by  the  company,  and  some- 
times all  of  them  are  put  into  service  at  once.  The  barrel  system 
of  Velasco  is  also  employed,  and  water,  barrels,  and  horses  make 
the  ore  into  silver. 

After  a  most  sumptuous  breakfast,  served  by  Mr.  Rule,  the  Super- 
intendent of  Regla,  a  breakfast  cooked  in  the  best  English  fashion 
(and  there  is  none  better),  we  start  for  the  last  and  not  least  of  the 
points  of  interest  that  have  drawn  our  feet  and  eyes  this  way.  The 
horses  that  are  brought  out  for  us,  how  different  from  the  shorn- 
tailed  nags  that  are  swinging  around  those  circles  !  The  gayest 
and  handsomest  is  most  unwisely  but  generously  offered  to  me. 
He  is  a  fine  sprinkled  white  sorrel,  and  he  has  been  in  the  Stable 
many  days. 


I5(5  OUR  X EXT- DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

The  best  seat  at  the  table,  and  the  best  dishes  upon  it,  a  minister 
may  get  used  to.  A  Methodist  minister  certainly  ought  to  be  ready 
to  accept  the  best  horse,  for  has  not  much  of  his  success  come 
from  his  gifts  and  graces  in  that  favorite  department  of  human  en- 
joyment ?  He  has  abolished  the  parson's  jog,  which  was  as  well 
known  as  the  parson's  coat,  and  made  the  "  Gid-up  "  of  Holmes's 
"  One-horse  Shay  "  as  dusty  a  nothing  as  the  shay  itself.  When 
the  first  itinerants  drove  into  the  country  village  on  their  smooth, 
fleet  steeds,  the  eyes  of  the  loafers  about  tavern  and  store  were 
opened  very  wide.  "  Who  is  this  feller  who  rides  such  a  handsome 
critter?''  was  the  general  inquiry.  And  when  they  found  he  was  a 
preacher,  their  amazement  grew  like  Fort  Garry  wheat  in  July. 
They  had  never  seen  it  after  this  fashion.  They  would  go  and  hear 
the  minister,  whose  horse  could  beat  the  fastest  racer  of  the  Cor- 
ners, and  they  did  go  and  hear,  and  found  he  could  preach  as  well 
as  he  could  ride.  The  way  to  a  man's  heart  is  through  a  horse,  as 
those  fathers  found. 

I  ought,  too,  to  have  been  inspired  by  modern  examples.  I  be- 
thought me  of  that  presiding  elder  way  clown  East,  whose  little 
beast  used  to  leave  all  meaner  things  behind  ;  and  who  (the  man, 
not  the  mare)  was  accustomed  to  say  to  all  gayly-dressed  horse- 
men, who  rode  up  in  buckskin  gloves,  shiny  hat,  horse  and  har- 
ness  and  all,  as  if  to  leave  their  dust  upon  his  sorry  team,  ere  he 
quickly  passed  out  of  their  sight,  "  I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  I  treat  all 
alike." 

Alas  !  that  this  dear,  delightful  brother  so  suddenly  fled  to  the 
world  above.  Riding  into  his  yard  from  his  wide  circuit,  struck 
there  with  death,  disembarking,  and  pausing  by  this  companion  of 
many  a  long  journey,  he  drops  suddenly,  never  to  rise  again.  The 
Pale  Horse  and  its  paler  rider  bear  him  swiftly  away.  Nay,  the 
(laming  chariots  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen  thereof  sweep  him 
heavenward. 

I  might  also  have  bethought  me  of  that  other  presiding  elder 
in  the  Far  West  who,  when  his  black  ponies  in  an  unwashed 
buggy  slid  by  a  costly,  stately  team,  newly  bought  and  burnished, 


A   SPIRITED  HORSE.  I57 

turned  to  their  crest-fallen  owner  as  he  passed,  and  suggested  that 
he  put  those  horses  in  the  lumber-yard. 

But  not  the  fathers  nor  the  brothers  could  give  me  courage.  I 
preferred  to  fall  into  the  extravagance  of  Bishop  Soule,  of  whom 
Bishop  Roberts  once  remarked  that  he  heard  "  he  had  sold  his 
horse  clown  South,  and  was  coming  home  in  a  stage-coach,''  and  he 
regretted  the  degeneracy  of  the  Church,  and  the  passing  away  of 
its  heroic  epoch.  But  that  epoch  had  its  vices  as  well  as  its  vir- 
tues, and  the  perils  of  horse-jockeying  worry  the  Conference  now 
in  the  passage  of  the  ministers'  characters  far  less  than  of  yore. 

I  get  on  my  star-dusted  steed  —  silver-dusted  I  ought  to  say  in 
this  country — and  he  leaps,  and  dances,  and  whirls,  and  plays  his 
fantastic  tricks.  And  I  pull  on  the  curb,  and  that  cuts  and  mad- 
dens and  makes  him  more  antic,  for  that  is  the  purpose  of  the 
curb  here. 

Every  thing  goes  by  contraries.  You  unlock  your  door  by  turn- 
ing the  key  to  the  lintel,  and  not  away  from  it;  you  open  it  out- 
ward. Your  boots  are  made  so  that  left  seems  right,  and  right  left, 
and  look  so  after  they  are  on.  You  take  the  same  side  in  the 
street  as  your  opposite,  and  so  does  he,  and  thus  you  go  bowing 
and  bobbing,  neither  able  to  get  on  or  away.  You  eat  your  break: 
fast  at  noon,  or  later,  and  take  your  midday  dinner  about  seven  in 
the  evening.  So  the  curb,  instead  of  steadying  the  horse,  sets  his 
mouth  a-bleeding,  and  that  makes  him  dance,  which  is  very  beauti- 
ful to  riders  and  lookers-on.  A  knife  thrust  into  his  belly  by  the 
spurs,  and  into  his  mouth  by  the  curb,  gets  up  just  the  right  degree 
of  pain  and  madness  that  makes  him  lively  and  lovely. 

Mine  has  no  spur,  for  which  all  thanks.  The  curb  is  enough. 
He  scampers  up  the  hill,  among  the  rocks,  regardless  of  rider  ;  flies 
down  a  steep  rock  slide,  as  if  he  would  never  stop  ;  caracoles  along 
the  edge  of  a  ravine,  or  barranca,  five  hundred  to  a  thousand  feet 
deep,  "like  he  knew,"  as  they  say  in  my  Southern  country.  I  was 
"  awfully  scared,"  lest  he  would  just  shake  himself  when  on  the  edg- 
iest edge,  and  drop  me  overboard.  But  when  we  got  up,  and  down, 
and  up  this  rough  lane  alongside  of  the  gorge,  and  the  splendid 


I53  OUR  XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

park  opened  out  for  miles,  hard,  smooth,  carpeted  with  short,  dry 
grass — how  he  did  fly  !  So  did  my  coward  lips  from  their  color. 
I  was  in  no  danger  of  witching  this  world  with  my  horsemanship. 
"  Muy  mal  "  (very  bad)  was  the  muttered  judgment  of  my  score  of 
Mexican  escorts,  and  so  was  it  mine. 


A   MEXICAN   GENERAL. 

There  was  a  general  in  our  troop  —  called  Heneral  here  (an- 
other specimen  of  the  contrary  style  of  this  people,  for  Cock-eral 
would  be  by  far  a  more  proper  designation).  This  G — ,  H — ,  or 
C — eral  was  a  cavalry  officer  all  through  the  war.  He  had  no- 
ticed what  fine  horses  I  had  got,  and  how  poorly  I  rode  them,  and 
he  had  had  a  suspicion  that  this  one  would  fall  to  him  ;  so  he  had 
offered  early  to  exchange  his  easy  pacer  for  my  furious  charger. 
In  a  fit  of  vainglory  I  had  declined.  But  that  park,  grass,  and 
gamboling  were  enough  for  me.     I  was  willing  to  swap  horses  in 


LA   BARRANCA    GRANDE.  T$g 

crossing  this  stream.  I  dismounted  and  gave  my  wayward  steed 
to  the  Heneral.  He  rode  him  well.  They  flew  together,  mile  and 
mile.  I  can  not  say  that  I  felt  very  bad  when  I  saw  him,  on  re- 
turning, dismount  and  lead  his  horse  for  a  long  stretch,  almost  over 
the  very  ground  where  it  had  tossed  me  so.  The  frisky  fellow  was 
blown.  The  high  altitude  and  his  high  spirits  were  too  much  for 
him,  and  he  had  run  himself  out.  The  short-lived  glory  died  away, 
and  this  very  short  horse  was  very  soon  curried. 

That  park  on  which  we  ascend  is  engirted  with  high  purple 
hills.  It  is  level,  and  hard  as  a  dancing-floor,  and  the  horses  all 
dance  as  they  touch  it,  and  have  a  gay  gallopade  over  it.  It 
was  my  ignorance,  probably,  of  that  sort  of  floor  practice  that  made 
me  make  so  poor  a  display.  The  Coloradoist  of  the  party  said  it 
was  very  like  the  parks  of  that  country.  It  is  fine  for  grazing, 
though  I  judge  it  is  too  high  and  dry  for  most  other  culture.  A 
half  hour  brings  us  to  its  abrupt  close. 

La  Barranca  Grande  opens  at  our  feet.  You  do  not  know  what 
a  barranca  is?  Nor  did  I  till  that  clay.  I  wish  you  could  learn  it 
the  same  way.  Conceive  of  a  level  plain  forty  miles  wide,  with  a 
border  of  mountains.  Ride  along  over  it  leisurely  and  rapidly,  a 
little  of  both,  chatting  or  singing  as  the  spirit  moves,  when  you 
halt,  without  reason  so  far  as  you  can  see.  You  move  on  a  rod  or 
two  slowly,  and  down  you  look  two  thousand  feet  (ten  times  the 
height  of  Trinity  steeple  or  Bunker  Hill  Monument),  down,  down, 
down.  That  is  no  black  chasm  into  which  you  are  peering,  but  a 
broad  garden,  green  and  brown.  Here  a  hill  rolls  up  in  it,  a  molt- 
scarcely  noticed  on  its  handsome  face.  There  a  bamboo  cot- 
tage hides  itself  without  being  hid.  The  green  forests  are  full  of 
deer.  Bananas,  oranges,  every  delight  is  flourishing  there.  A  riv- 
er trickles  through  it,  picking  its  glittering  way  down  to  the  Gulf, 
two  hundred  miles  away.  The  walls  on  the  opposite  side  rise  into 
wild,  rocky  mountains,  and  both  sides  come  seemingly  together  for- 
ty miles  above — though  it  is  only  seeming,  for  the  canon  takes  a 
turn,  and  goes  on  and  up  between  the  mountains.  Eastward  it  has 
no  visible  end.     It  descends,  it  is  said,  through  to  the  Gulf. 


l6o  OUR  XE  XT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

The  sunlight  of  a  warm  September  afternoon,  so  it  feels,  pours 
over  the  whole,  glowing  grandly  on  these  mountains,  pouring 
a  flood  of  light  on  the  upper  terminations  where  the  hills  clasp 
hands  over  the  valley,  and  glistening  sweetly  from  the  home-like 
landscape  below. 

One  would  not  tire  of  gazing,  or  of  going  down,  though  the  latter 
is  an  hour's  job,  the  former  a  second's.  It  is  wonderful  what  great 
gifts  God  spreads  out  on  the  earth  for  his  children,  and  how  soli- 
tary the  most  of  them  are.  Bryant  could  not  make  solitude  more 
solitary  than  in  those  lines  of  his, 

"  Where  rolls  the  Oiegon  and  hears  no  sound 
Save  his  own  dashings." 

So  here  sleeps  this  wonderful  ravine,  with  its  towering  mountains, 
in  sun  or  moon,  in  midnight  blackness  or  midday  splendor,  and 
rarely  looks  on  the- face  of  man.  Does  not  the  Giver  of  every  good 
and  perfect  gift  enjoy  His  own  gifts  ?  "  For  His  pleasure  they  are 
and  were  created."  Then  the  Barranca  would  be  satisfied  if  no 
mortal  eye  ever  took  in  its  beauty.  It  smiles  responsive  to  the 
smile  of  its  Lord. 

Long  we  hang  above  the  picture.  At  risk  of  life  we  creep  to  the 
outermost  twig,  and  gaze  down.  It  stands  forth  a  gem  of  its  own. 
No  rival  picture  intermeddleth  therewith.  "  It  is  worth  a  journey 
of  a  thousand  miles,"  said  a  distinguished  traveler  to  me  to-day, 
"to  see  the  Barranca  Grande  and  the  Regla  Palisades."  And  I 
say  "  ditto  "  to  Mr.  Burke. 

We  are  back  to  Regla  and  off  to  Pachuca  none  too  early,  for  it 
is  four  and  one-fourth  of  the  clock  ere  we  leave  our  too-hospitable 
friends  of  the  valley,  and  turn  homeward  our  horses'  heads  and  our 
own — well-turned  these  latter  be  already  by  what  we  have  seen.  It 
is  dark  at  six,  and  the  ride  is  five  hours,  and  the  country  full  of 
robbers.  Dark  falls  on  us  before  we  reach  Velasco  —  thick,  soft, 
warm.  We  begin  to  climb  the  mountains  and  pass  the  lower  en- 
trance of  Real  del  Monte,  when  I  get  a  bigger  scare  by  far  than 
that  which  frighted  us  near  Omatuska. 


A   SCARE,  AND   A   RELIEF.  x6i 

I  had  just  been  talking  with  the  builder  of  the  Vera  Cruz  road. 
He  had  expressed  fears  of  an  attack,  and  as  he  had  been  long  in 
the  land,  his  fears  were  well  grounded,  at  least  to  me.  He  had 
been  describing  how  a  French  friend  of  his  was  lately  cut  to  pieces 
on  the  hill  we  were  soon  to  cross.  So  I  was  in  an  excellent  con- 
dition for  a  fright.  He  had  ridden  ahead  a  rod  or  less,  and  was 
chatting  Spanish  with  the  conductor,  Mr.  Comargo.  It  was  pitch- 
dark.  Horsemen  had  been  passing  us  quite  frequently,  lively  with 
pulqui,  and  the  bull-fight  of  the  clay.  They  were  all  in  good  fight- 
ing trim.  Suddenly  a  number  of  them  rode  in  among  us,  wheeled 
round  their  horses,  and  drove  up  to  the  conductor.  I  heard  them 
speak  his  name.  "  It  is  come  now,  I  am  sure  of  it,"  I  thought. 
These  fellows  are  going  to  seize  the  conductor,  and  pistols  and  ri- 
fles will  instantly  flash  and  fire.  As  I  had  neither  rifle  nor  pistol, 
I  was  not  expected  to  take  a  very  prominent  part  in  the  mele'e.  I 
could  see  them  dimly  speak  to  the  leader,  and  awaited  the  fire.  It 
did  not  come.  What  does  it  mean?  One  second  —  ten — thirty 
elapsed,  and  no  cry,  no  grapple,  no  shot.  I  turned  to  one  of  the 
escort  at  my  side,  and  summoning  up  all  the  Spanish  at  my  com- 
mand, I  said,  "  Nosotros  ombres  ?"'  "  Si,  seiior,"  was  his  calming 
reply,  and  the  scare  was  over.  They  were  gentlemen  from  Real 
del  Monte,  who  had  ridden  clown  to  escort  us  through  the  town. 
My  escort,  who  said  "Yes,  sir,"  did  not  rebuke  me  for  my  bad 
Spanish.  But  when  I  got  back  to  Mexico,  and  was  telling  the  ad- 
venture to  some  Yankees,  they  laughed  at  my  language,  and  said 
my  question  meant  "  We  friends  ?"  instead  of  "  Our  friends  ?"  which 
I  meant  to  say,  and  that  I  ought  to  have  said,  "  Nuestros  ombres?" 

I  insert  this,  so  that  if  you  are  equally  frightened  you  may  be 
sure  and  be  grammatical,  otherwise  your  stay-at-home  friends,  who 
know  just  a  bit  more  than  you,  and  not  your  Spanish  comrades,  will 
be  sure  to  make  fun  of  you,  even  as  those  who  never  write  a  book 
or  an  article  can  cut  up  the  grammar  of  those  who  do.  Lindley 
Murray  did  not  write  Shakspeare,  nor  Goold  Brown  edit  the  Atlan- 
tic ;  but  how  much  more  the)-  know  about  correct  writing  than  mere 
eeniuses 1 


,,,_,  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

Down  hill,  on  the  box  with  the  driver,  I  go,  for  my  friend,  the  gen- 
eral,  begs  the  loan  of  my  horse  ;  and,  pitying  his  ill-luck  with  the  for- 
mer steed,  I  relent  and  grant  the  second  favor.  The  driver  re- 
sponds to  my  American  Spanish  with  a  ceaseless  "Si " — not  "  sigh," 
as  you  might  properly  suppose,  but  "see."  Especially  when  I  say 
"Ablaro"  (another  blunder)  "  Espagnol  muy  mal"  ("  I  speak  Span- 
ish very  bad"),  you  ought  to  have  heard  him  put  the  emphasis  on 
that  "Si,  sehor." 

We  wind  around  the  gulfs  of  the  mountain -side.  A  white  rim 
about  a  black  sea  the  road  appears.  Robberless,  and  now  fear- 
less, we  greet  the  lights  of  Pachuca,  drive  through  its  narrow 
streets,  and,  at  nine  and  a  half,  ride  under  the  fortified  arches  of 
the  Casa  Grande. 

The  Old  and  the  New  accompany  us  even  after  we  get  within 
the  safe  and  luxurious  inclosure  ;  for  I  am  no  sooner  seated  at  our 
ten-o'clock  dinner  than  word  comes  that  a  couple  await  my  pres- 
ence at  a  wedding,  and  the  guests  also.  So  the  dinner  is  left  half 
done,  so  far  as  the  appetite  goes,  and  the  guard  is  followed  to  an 
English  residence,  that  of  the  superintendent  of  the  mines.  Here 
we  wait  two  hours  for  the  arrival  of  the  clerk  of  the  city,  who  must 
be  present  to  make  the  clerical  work  of  any  value.  A  supper  of 
English  tea,  cheese,  bread,  and  buns  breaks  that  two  hours  in 
pieces,  and  half  an  hour  after  midnight  the  Cornwall  youth  and 
maiden  are  duly  and  truly  married  by  a  Mexican  officer  of  state 
and  an  American  clergyman.  So  ended  the  day,  when  the  clock 
struck  one,  and  I  struck  the  couch,  satisfied  with  this  full  cup  of 
the  Old  and  the  New. 

And  now,  having  taken  you  over  the  ride,  you  may  like,  as  prac- 
tical Yankees,  to  know  what  all  this  is  for.  You  can  not  be  much 
of  a  Yankee  not  to  know.  Look  at  that  silver  dollar !  Ah,  I  for- 
got !  You  live  in  a  country  where  the  silver  dollar  is  unknown. 
A  country  that  pays  off  its  debts,  has  good  credit  everywhere,  pays 
its  employe's  regularly,  soldiers  and  clerks  and  officers,  and  yet  does 
not  clink  the  silver.  Here  all  is  silver  and  bankruptcy.  No  cur- 
rency but  coin,  and  no  credit  at  home  or  abroad.     General  But- 


THE  MOST  SUCCESSFUL   OPERATOR.  ^3 

ler's  argument  for  a  paper  currency  based  on  the  credit  of  the  gov- 
ernment is  the  practice  of  America,  whatever  be  its  theory.  Mexi- 
co has  sent  out  three  thousand  millions  of  silver,  and  is  still  a  sil- 
verless  country.  The  Real  del  Monte  mines,  as  all  this  group  is 
called,  have  been  known  almost  from  the  invasion  of  Cortez. 
They  have  been  regularly  and  valuably  worked  for  over  a  hundred 
and  fifty  years,  though  with  some  intermissions,  caused  by  the  wa- 
ter getting  into  the  mines. 

The  most  successful  operator  was  Pedro  Terreras,  a  muleteer, 
who  found  a  shaft  about  i762,  worked  it,  and  grew  so  rich  that  he 
gave  Charles  IV.  of  Spain  two  vessels  of  war,  and  promised  him, 
if  he  would  visit  America  and  Regla,  that  he  should  never  put  foot 
on  the  New  World,  but  only  on  the  silver  from  his  mines.  He 
was  made  Count  of  Regla,  and  his  family  are  still  among  the 
wealthiest  Mexicans.  The  present  yield  of  the  mines  is  about 
four  millions  annually. 

We  went  into  an  "  adit,"  or  passage  by  which  the  tram-way  drags 
out  the  ore.  It  is  the  Gautemozin  mine,  and  properly  named 
for  the  last  Aztec  emperor,  who  bravely  but  vainly  sought  to  keep 
these  riches  from  the  European  clutch.  It  is  the  richest  in  the 
country.  A  mile  or  so  by  mules,  careful  not  to  put  out  your  arm 
and  to  get  too  lifted  up  in  your  head,  and  you  come  to  a  higher 
hole  in  the  mountain,  and  a  deeper  one  also.  Here  ladders  de- 
scend for  fifteen  hundred  feet.  We  take  that  for  granted,  climb 
a  hundred  feet,  and  see  the  steam-engine  working  in  the  bowels  of 
the  earth.  I  had  heard  that  this  was  an  English  invention.  I  find 
it  an  American  discovery.  Here  we  see  it  growing.  It  looks 
strange,  this  fierce  fire  in  the  heart  of  the  mountain,  and  some  of 
our  companions  fear  it  as  typical  of  the  place  we  do  not  go  up  to. 

These  engines  everywhere  are  to  draw  off  the  water.  They  are 
run  by  Englishmen  entirely.  The  ore  comes  up  in  long  iron 
boxes,  is  dumped  into  carts,  is  divided  off  in  bags,  one  in  ten  of 
which  goes  to  the  miner,  besides  six  reals  a  day.  The  ore  is  worth 
about  as  much  more  ;  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day  is  quite  a  fair  day's 
wages.     They  search  every  workman  three  times  as  he  leaves  the 


!64  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

mine,  from  hair  to  shoes.  He  has  only  two  garments — a  short  lin- 
en jacket,  and  a  pair  of  trowsers  without  pockets.  These  are  care- 
fully shaken.  His  hat  and  slippers  are  pulled  off,  and  equally 
searched. 

The  ore  does  not  look  very  lustrous,  but  yields  about  one  hun- 
dred dollars  to  the  tun.  It  is  crushed,  then  washed  in  circular 
troughs  by  mules,  then  trodden  out,  as  at  Regla,  with  chemicals, 
then  baked,  then  shipped  to  Mexico,  where  it  goes  through  a  half- 
dozen  bakings  and  brewings  and  rollings  and  stampings  before  it 
gets  into  your  pocket  for  a  moment.  The  other  minerals,  zinc, 
copper,  antimony,  etc.,  give  it  more  or  less  difficulty  of  reduction, 
but  in  a  country  where  transportation  is  cheaper,  and  the  markets 
nearer,  would  themselves  be  preserved,  and  made  to  pay  in  their 
own  value  the  cost  of  reducing  the  richer  minerals. 

But  few  of  the  mines  are  valuable,  and  though  from  three  to  four 
millions  is  the  annual  product,  there  are  no  dividends.  The  Real 
del  Monte  mines  proper  have  not  paid  expenses  within  two  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  a  year  for  the  past  ten  years.  Those  of  Pa- 
chuca  do  better,  but  do  not  do  much.  Many  mines  are  worked 
at  a  loss.  Much  expense  is  necessary  for  drawing  off  the  water. 
Miles  and  miles  of  "  adits  "  run  under  the  mountain.  So  that  the 
vast  receipts  are  swallowed  up  in  the  vaster  expenditures.  Yet 
they  expect  the  costly  works  will  be  paid  for,  and  then  we  will  all 
be  changed  from  mule-driving  Pedros  to  Counts  of  Regla.  If  it 
were  not  for  hope,  the  heart  would  break,  and  silver-mining  compa- 
nies also.  They  do  in  spite  of  hope,  as  more  than  one  poor  minis- 
ter has  found,  from  Massachusetts  to  Minnesota. 

The  conductor  says,  "  Do  not  invest  your  money  in  silver  mines. 
A  share  or  two,  if  you  can  lose  it,  may  be  well  enough  ;  but  it  is  a 
less  certain  crop  than  wheat."  He  is  a  good  man  to  follow.  Yet 
one  success  carries  a  thousand  failures,  and  a  millionaire  a  century 
ago  will  make  beggars  of  all  the  generations  following,  as  they  at- 
tempt to  discover  what  he  discovered  without  any  attempt.  Mot- 
to for  silver  mines  :  "  Be  content  with  what  stock  you  have." 

Our  ride  to  Pachuca  was  for  veins  of  ecclesiastical  silver,  richer 


THE  BEST  INVESTMENT.  165 

than  all  this  ore.  These  we  found,  and  were  well  repaid.  Four 
churches  already  exist,  the  fruits  of  that  trip  and  the  subsequent 
faithful  followings  of  better  men.  A  lady  from  the  States  has 
opened  a  Spanish  and  an  English  school,  and  Pachuca  bids  fair  to 
be  the  silver  circuit  of  the  Mexican  Conference  not  many  days 
hence. 

Invest  in  these  operations.  They  are  as  Old  as  God  and  as 
New — from  everlasting  to  everlasting.  Put  your  money  and  your 
prayers  into  the  soul  silver  mines,  and  you  will  lay  up  treasures  in 
heaven,  where  no  Mexican  robbers  nor  thieves  of  worldliness  ever 
break  through  or  steal,  and  where  you  shall  be  receiving  increas- 
ing and  immeasurable  interest  on  these  human  and  earthly  and 
present  investments  for  ever  and  ever. 


1(56  OCR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


VI. 

ACROSS  LOTS. 

A  drowsy  Beginning. — Paradise  somewhat  Lost. — Trees  of  Paradise. — A  lingual 
Guess  at  the  Aztec  Origin. — Tizayuca. — Zumpango. — The  Lake  System. — 
Guatitlan. — Hotel  San  Pedro. — Into  Town. — Tree  of  Noche  Triste. — Tacuba. 
— Aqueduct  of  San  Cosme. — Tivoli. 

Do  you  want  to  know  where  I  am  writing  this?  In  bed,  on  my 
side,  by  the  light  of  a  candle,  very  dimly  burning.  Sitting  on  a 
bench,  by  its  side,  are  a  brass  bowl  and  a  brown  pitcher.  One 
chair  is  the  only  other  piece  of  furniture  besides  the  bed.  It  is  the 
Hotel  San  Pedro,  the  chief  hotel  of  the  place. 

I  had  gotten  so  far  when  eyes  and  fingers  gave  out,  and  the  can- 
dle followed.  Nothing  like  tired  nature  to  overcome  disagreeable 
surroundings.  The  boy  on  the  top  of  the  mast  can  sleep  as  sound- 
ly as  on  a  hay-mow,  one  of  the  best  places  ever  got  up  for  sleeping 
purposes.  It  only  needs  a  sufficient  degree  of  hunger  to  make 
any  food  palatable,  and  a  sufficient  degree  of  drowsiness  to  make 
any  couch  restful.  The  best  bed  I  ever  had  was  the  planks  that 
incline  from  the  platform  of  the  Jersey  City  depot  to  the  floor  of 
the  dock.  Getting  off  there  about  two  in  the  morning,  with  a  regi- 
ment of  soldiers,  we  stretch  ourselves  on  the  floor  for  sleep.  I 
was  fortunate  enough  to  get  the  slope  that  is  a  substitute  for  a  step 
or  two.  The  inclination  was  perfect,  and  I  have  often  thought  that 
was  my  bed  of  beds.  I  could  get  out  a  patent  for  a  bed  after  that 
fashion  which  would  do  away  with  pillows,  and,  if  one  is  sufficient- 
ly sleepy,  with  mattresses  and  other  softnesses  as  well. 

I  was  going  to  describe  my  quarters  at  Guatitlan,  when  sleep 
came  down  for  my  deliverance  and  yours.  So  I  will  bring  it  in  at 
the  right  place  now,  and  begin  at  the  beginning. 

We  had  done  Pachuca  —  mines,  rides,  feastings,  and  worship. 


PARADISE  SOMEWHAT  LOST.  ^7 

The  time  came  for  us  to  go.  It  always  comes  to  blissful  or  painful 
sojourners.  Four  nights  and  three  days  had  we  traveled  and  chat- 
ted, and  prayed  and  preached,  and  mingled  all  the  good  things  of 
both  lives  happily  together.  "  How  to  make  the  best  of  two  Lives  " 
is  the  title  of  a  good  book.  One  might  answer,  "  Go  to  Mr.  Comar- 
go's,  the  commandant  of  the  mines  at  Pachuca,  and  spend  a  Sab- 
bath and  two  week-days  in  and  about  that  romantic  spot."  Gen- 
eral Palmer  had  engaged  a  mule-team  to  take  him  and  his  Phil- 
adelphia -  Paris  compadre  across  the  country.  He  generously 
offered  me  a  seat  in  his  "  waggin,"  as  they  pronounce  it  here. 
You  would  never  dream  how  it  was  spelled  from  that  pronuncia- 
tion. I  do  not  know  now.  It  sounds  like  a  corruption  of  our 
word  wagon. 

The  offer  is  gladly  accepted,  and  we  pass  out  of  the  narrow 
streets  of  the  city  of  silver  at  about  sunrise,  into  the  paradise  that 
incloses  the  town  on  its  southern  side.  Paradise  always  looks  a 
little  more  paradisiacal  when  at  a  distance  than  on  closer  inspec- 
tion. Shall  we  be  disappointed  in  heaven?  Disappointed  in  get- 
ting there,  I  fear.  As  Dr.  Watts  said,  "disappointed  at  three  things  : 
at  seeing  some  there  whom  we  did  not  expect  to  see,  and  not  see- 
ing some  that  we  did  expect  to  see,  and  especially  disappointed  at 
seeing  ourselves  there."  May  this  happy  disappointment  be  ours, 
every  one. 

Our  Pachuca  paradise  is  as  green  as  it  promises  from  the  hill- 
top, looking  down.  The  road  runs  amidst  trees,  a  brown  river  with 
greenest  banks.  The  favorite  tree  is  called  the  Peru-tree,  of  slight 
green  leaves,  bearing  a  red  berry  in  clusters  ;  not  unlike  in  look  to 
the  checker-berry,  as  it  is  called  in  New  England,  but  very  unlike 
in  taste,  for  this  berry  is  puckery  in  the  extreme.  Yet  birds  like 
them,  and  so  every  thing  has  its  uses.  It  makes  a  pretty  ornament 
to  the  landscape,  its  varied  colors  making  the  fields  into  an  aviary 
of  cardinals — an  appropriate  effect  for  a  papal  land.  The  maguey 
flourishes  in  all  its  greenness,  and  very  handsome  it  is  in  its  sweep 
of  leaf  and  depth  of  hue.  The  mountains  rise  on  our  left,  near  and 
dark  and  cool.     The  fields  spread  out,  a  level  upland,  limited  by 


lOS  OCR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

ranges  near  on  the  left  and  rear,  remote  on  the  front  and  right — a 
prairie  of  scores  of  square  miles. 

We  scamper  over  the  plain  in  the  brisk  Septemberish  morning, 
finding  our  shawls  and  capes  no  incumbrance.  The  land  is  very 
fertile,  and  quite  generally  cultivated.  We  pass  haciendas  where 
barley  is  being  reaped  and  wheat  sown,  and  all  the  offices  of  na- 
ture going  on  all  the  time.  The  chill  morning  air  melts  before  the 
hot  sun,  and  an  August  noon  fits  on  to  a  fall  sunrise. 

We  breakfast  at  the  snug  little  town  of  Tizayuca.  The  funniest 
thing  about  Mexico  is  the  names  of  the  towns.  It  is  a  sport  that 
is  jaw-cracking.  It  is  the  punishment  the  Aztecs  inflicted  upon 
the  Spaniards,  almost  equal  to  any  they  suffered.  As  compared 
with  the  rich  vocabulary  of  Spain,  or  the  sounding  words  of  more 
Northern  tribes,  they  are  horrid.  They  sound  Chinese  and  Japa- 
nese, and  are  another  of  the  hints  toward  the  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem as  to  where  these  races  came  from.  Japanese  junks  now  drift 
on  to  the  western  Mexican  shore.  This  people  look  and  act  like 
those  Asiatics.  They  are  equally  imitative,  patient,  subdued,  in- 
dustrious. They  have  a  likeness  of  language.  Their  habits  are 
Asiatic.  There  is  more  indifference  to  propriety  in  these  Aztec 
women  than  in  any  of  the  peasantry  of  Europe  or  Egypt.  It  is 
Eastern  Asia  that  they  reproduce.  So  their  consonant  names  are 
a  like  production.  All  of  which  is  respectfully  submitted  to  the 
learned  societies  of  Asia  and  America. 

Tizayuca,  which  brought  on  this  excursus,  seems  incapable  of 
bringing  on  any  thing  else.  It  slumbers  like  any  American  cross- 
roads at  midday.  Not  a  breath  nor  whisper,  not  a  buzz  nor  a  bite, 
except  of  invisible  fleas  and  too-visible  dogs.  The  church  absorbs 
the  town,  which  consists  of  one-story  adobe  huts,  hidden  among 
useless  Peru-trees  and  more  useless  maguey. 

The  breakfast  was  served  from  twelve  to  two,  and  was  the  best 
thing  in  the  place,  except  the  pleasant-voiced  woman  that  served 
it,  her  pretty  children,  and  the  church  aforesaid.  It  is  surprising 
what  good  meals  they  get  up  in  these  out-of-the-way  places.  Beef- 
steak, thin -sliced  fried  potatoes,  chicken -stews,  and  chocolate  or 


ZUMPANGO.  X69 

coffee  of  the  best,  make  us  long  and  lovingly  remember  Tizayuca. 
You  can  remember  it  by  saying,  "  'Tis  a— favorite  game  of  gam- 
blers or  food  of  these  natives." 

The  power  of  the  Castilian  to  manufacture  derivatives  was  fun- 
nily shown  by  our  hostess,  who,  when  scolded  at  for  her  delay  in 
bringing  on  the  chocolate,  responded,  "Ahouta-ta-ta-ta-ta."  "Ahou- 
ta  "  meant  "  immediately."  Every  added  "  ta  "  shortened  the  time. 
Could  one  have  been  made  to  say  "  quickly  "  in  any  prettier  man- 
ner? It  is  a  pleasant  privilege,  and  makes  the  family  and  friendly 
diminutives  very  cordial  and  delightful. 

Ten  miles,  and  Zumpango  is  reached.  These  miles  go  through 
a  road  but  slightly  traveled,  and  across  fields  susceptible  of  high 
culture.  We  cross  the  divide  between  Mexico  and  Pachuca, 
a  hardly  noticeable  swell,  and  find  ourselves  in  the  rich  valley 
of  the  capital.  Zumpango  is  a  pretty  and  lively  town  of  five  thou- 
sand souls.  A  noisy  crowd  of  chanticleers  are  keeping  up  great 
disturbance.  They  prove  to  be  some  four  hundred  fighting-cocks, 
which  are  brought  here  for  sale.  "  Elegant-looking  birds,"  said 
one  of  my  companions,  who  saw  them.  More  elegant-looking  now 
than  when  torn,  bleeding,  from  each  other's  embrace. 

This  place  lies  at  the  head  of  the  lake  system  which  imperils 
Mexico.  Three  lakes  flow  clown  upon  that  capital.  The  remotest 
one  is  that  of  Zumpango.  It  lies  at  the  base  of  a  range  of  mount- 
ains, and  stretches  along  the  rear  of  the  town  for  several  miles. 
Its  hill-sides,  opposite  the  town,  look  as  if  it  would  be  a  delightful 
winter  resort  for  Northern  people.  It  is  over  twenty  feet  higher 
than  Mexico,  and  about  thirty  miles  distant.  To  preserve  it  from 
inundating  the  city,  a  huge  dike  or  wall,  ten  feet  high,  is  built  along 
its  southern  side.  This  dike  is  repeated  more  elaborately  at  the 
next  lake,  San  Christoval ;  and  so  the  last  lake,  on  whose  edge 
the  city  sits,  rarely  rises  above  its  proper  level.  Millions  of  dollars 
have  been  expended  on  these  works,  and  they  are  yet  unfinished. 
They  need  a  drainage  from  the  lowest  lake  into  some  river  flow- 
ing down  to  the  Gulf.  This  is  projected,  and  will  be  accomplish- 
ed, "  manana  ?" 


12 


]?0  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

The  ride  from  Zumpango  to  Guatitlan,  where  this  story  began, 
is  very  pretty.  The  haciendas  grow  frequent ;  cattle  fill  the  fields  ; 
-rains  are  being  harvested;  and  some  fields,  well  irrigated,  look 
wondrous  green.  The  acres  are  lowly,  and  often  wet.  Great  herds 
of  cattle  and  horses  are  grazing  in  the  drier  meadows,  while  the 
huge  snow- mountains  rise  higher  than  ever  before  from  this  half- 
watery  base.  Iztaccihuatl  is  more  beautiful  than  from  any  other 
position.  Both  that  and  Popocatepetl  are  grand  diamonds,  flash- 
ing solid  light  in  that  sun-bright  sky.  What  other  fields  of  earth 
have  such  a  guardianship? 

As  we  enter  the  town,  it  seems  certain  that  it  must  be  an  Amer- 
ican summer  village.  Trees  line  the  roadside,  lustrous  in  July 
verdure  ;  fields  equally  lovely  lie  behind  the  trees  ;  flowers  blossom 
on  the  wayside.  What  better  place  possible  to  spend  a  night? 
Alas  !  for  the  vanity  of  human  expectations.  The  street  is  busy, 
and  the  two  boys  who  are  driving  our  mules,  well  loaded  with  pul- 
qui  (the  boys,  not  the  mules),  are  greeted  by  another,  more  loaded, 
if  possible,  than  they.  He  misdirected  us  ;  but  hung  round  for  his 
medio,  or  half  a  real  (six  and  a  quarter  cents),  till  the  foot  almost 
followed  the  voice  in  ejecting  him.  The  Hotel  San  Pedro  admits 
us  to  its  ample  yard,  and  that  is  about  all. 

Not  to  disappoint  you,  when  Rosecrans's  railroad  takes  you  to 
this  hard-named  city,  let  us  take  you  now  to  its  chief  hotel.  Imag- 
ine a  square  yard,  three  hundred  feet  across.  Around  it  are  one- 
story,  low-roofed  sheds  of  adobe.  At  its  entrance  is  a  small  fonda. 
or  restaurant.  On  its  rear  are  some  steps  going  up  to  a  second- 
story  veranda,  low-browed  and  wide,  on  which  are  six  small  rooms, 
with  brick  floors  and  bare  bedsteads,  with  a  chair,  a  table,  and  a 
bench  as  their  furniture. 

There  are  the  quarters  for  fastidious  guests,  the  first-class  cars 
for  unseasoned  Yankees.  They  are  remote  from  the  house,  if 
house  that  single  room  can  be  called  which  provides  your  meals 
alone  ;  and  they  are  easily  assailable  by  any  body  in  the  spacious 
yard,  and  there  are  many  bodies  there.  A  range  of  huge  mule- 
wagons  is  backed  along  the  rear  of  the  yard,  just  under  our  balco- 


THE   VALLEY  OF  MEXICO. 


I7i 


TREE   OF   TRISTE   NOCHE. 


ny,  and  morning  reveals  the  muleteers  sleeping  soundly  under  their 
wagons.  Their  women  find  beds  under  the  shed  or  under  the  can- 
vas of  the  wain.  An  Indian  and  his  wife  are  stretched,  asleep,  on 
a  common  blanket,  on  the  common  ground,  under  the  shed  near  the 
gate-way.  So  we  have  plenty  of  comrades  inside  the  gates  to  rob 
us  of  our  slumber  and  our  watches.  The  watch  we  left  at  Mexico, 
fulfilling  (this  once)  the  command  against  putting  on  of  gold  and 
costly  apparel ;  and  the  slumber  they  left  undisturbed.  "  I  both 
laid  me  down  in  peace  and  slept,  and  I  awaked ;  for  thou,  O  Lord, 
sustained  me."  David  laid  himself  down  and  slept  in  a  caravan- 
sary not  unlike  this.  His  condition,  protection,  and  comfort  are 
ours  to-day.  How  true  is  it  that  our  Lord  is  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day,  and  forever ! 

The  morning  rays  creep  in  at  our  doors.     We  are  up  and  out 
and  off.     How  splendid  is  the  weather!     They  never  talk  of  the 


,7,  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

weather  here.  It  changes  not.  The  sun  comes  exquisitely  up 
over  Guadalupe.  The  fields  beneath  the  hills  are  very  like  the 
farms  of  the-  West,  all  except  the  mountains.  Culture  and  comfort 
seem  to  nestle  in  these  shaded  retreats.  The  sierras  of  Toluca  and 
Guadalupe  come  together  in  a  narrow  and  not  lofty  pass,  which 
our  engineering  associate  is  easily  surmounting  with  his  gauges 
and  his  trains.  Over  it,  and  we  are  in  the  Valley  of  Mexico.  The 
city  lies  fifteen  miles  off,  a  garden  of  foliage  being  our  ceaseless  es- 
cort to  its  gates.  We  move  moderately  through  village  and  town, 
examining  churches,  olive-groves,  plazas,  riding  under  broad-spread- 
ing branches,  slowly  wading  through  droves  of  burdened  mules  and 
asses,  going  to  town  with  the  "  truck  "  of  the  country. 

The  morning  is  delicious,  and  our  spirits  hardly  less  so.  We 
could  not  help  exclaiming,  although  it  was  not  Mexican— inspired, 
doubtless,  by  the  Massachusetts  memories  of  Samuel  Adams  and 
Hancock,  on  the  morn  of  the  battle  of  Lexington,  "What  a  glorious 
morning  is  this  !"  Yet  they  have  them  here  all  the  time  and  all 
the  day  long;  although  the  peculiar  preciousness  of  the  Lexington 
morning  is  not  yet  fully  transferred  to  this  rare  clime. 

Just  before  we  reach  Tacuba,  a  few  miles  from  the  city,  a  big  old 
tree,  walled  in  and  inscribed,  stands  almost  in  the  road-way.  It  is 
the  tree  under  which  Cortez  collected  the  little  remnant  of  his  sol- 
diers in  that  "  noche  triste  "  (sad  night),  when  they  had  been  driv- 
en from  the  city  by  the  uprising  natives,  determined  to  extirpate 
the  invaders,  avenge  their  gods,  and  save  their  country.  It  was  a 
terrible  night.  None  more  terrible  in  the  history  of  battles.  The 
Indians  had  rushed  upon  them  in  the  dark  from  boat  and  marsh 
and  at  the  open  crossings  of  the  dike,  until  but  a  handful  was  left 
to  tell  the  tale.  These  gathered  here  a  moment  on  retreat  to  the 
victory  which  another  year  saw  accomplished. 

It  is  a  huge  and  gnarled  cypress,  with  scant  boughs  and  foliage 
— old  then,  and  held  in  great  veneration  to-day  by  the  Spaniards. 
How  do  the  Mexicans  regard  it?  If  New  England  were  to-day 
three-fourths  British,  and  they  were  held  in  subjection,  how  would 
they    regard   the    Lexington   Monument?      But   the    natives   are 


A  BATTLE-GROUND. 


J7: 


GARDEN    OF   THE   TIVOLI,  SAN   COSME. 

mounting  to  place  and  power ;  and  so  the  tree  may  be  allowed  to 
stand,  like  our  battle  monuments.  A  fire  almost  consumed  it  last 
year,  and  it  is  preserved  with  as  great  difficulty  as  the  big  tree  on 
Boston  Common. 

Tacuba  is  passed  —  not  pretty  in  its  high,  inclosing  walls,  but 
lovely  in  its  opening  glimpses  of  gardens  and  groves.  The  Street 
of  San  Cosme  is  entered,  and  its  solemn-looking  aqueduct  passed. 
This  aqueduct,  built  after  the  "  high  Roman  fashion,"  on  stately 
arches,  rises  gray  and  black  and  moist.  Its  sides  drip  with  cool- 
ness, and  are  flecked  with  mosses,  grasses,  and  tiny  shrubs.  It 
seems  a  projection  of  Antechristian  times  into  the  bustling  pres- 
ent. Along  these  arches  fought  the  men  of  Scott  against  the  men 
of  Santa  Anna,  inch  by  inch,  to  the  plaza  and  the  palace.     Along 


,74  OUR  XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

them  now  the  horse-car  flies,  the  ass  tugs  under  his  big  and  bulky 
burden,  the  peon  toils  under  his  relatively  bigger  and  more  bulky 
loads.  The  whole  broad  avenue  is  full  of  life,  while  by  its  side 
stalks  the  majestic  aqueduct,  a  Roman  legion  slow  marching  into 
Rome.  It  is  as  artistic  a  line  of  beauty  as  ever  strode  along  a 
busy  city  pathway.  It  brings  the  Chapultepec  waters  to  the  town, 
.in  old  fashioned  water-way,  but  far  grander  than  our  modern  coun- 
terpart of  hidden  pipes  and  siphons. 

The  Tivoli  gardens  open  on  this  avenue,  and  just  below  the  ter- 
minus of  the  aqueduct.  There  we  pause  for  a  breakfast,  amidst 
foliage,  birds,  and  summer  delights."  This  is  a  favorite  resort  for 
out-of-door  dinner-parties,  and  has  every  conceit  for  such  tastes — 
bowers,  boxes,  and  even  tables  up  in  the  trees.  We  can  there  eat, 
and  chatter  like  and  with  the  birds.  That  is  high  living,  at  not 
very  high  prices.  Try  it  when  you  go  to  Mexico.  The  few  decid- 
uous trees  are  putting  forth  fresh  foliage,  and  every  thing  is  lovely. 
How  lovely  !  Oh,  that  grace  and  goodness  kept  step  with  nature  ! 
Where  do  they  ?     In  you  ? 

The  perilous  journey  of  sixty  to  seventy  miles  is  passed  without 
peril,  and  a  new  and  pleasant  chapter  added  to  the  book  of  expe- 
rience. 


WE  SET  OUT  FOR  PUEBLA, 


;75 


VII. 

THE  TO  WN  OF  THE  ANGELS. 

Warnings  unheeded. — Slow  Progress. — Christ  in  the  Inn. — Why  Angelic. — Bad 
Faith  and  worse  Works. — First  English  Service. — Outlook  from  the  Cathe- 
dral.— Tlascala. — The  Volcano. — Inside  View  of  the  Belfry. — Inside  the  Ca- 
thedral. —  Triple  Gilt.  —  Cathedral  Service.  —  La  Destruccion  de  los  Protes- 
tantes. 

When  Cortez  was  told  he  must  not  go  in  a  certain  direction 
or  to  a  certain  place,  he  always  went  straight  thus  and  there.  His 
success  was  in  no  small  measure  clue  to  that  quality  of  his  nature. 
When  he  came  to  the  wall  of  Tlascala  he  went  through  its  gates, 
not  around  it.  His  battles  with  the  Tlascalans  assured  his  success 
with  their  Aztec  foes.  So  when  they  told  him  he  must  not  go  to 
Cholula,  since  the  priestly  city  was  too  cunning  for  him,  into  it  he 
marched. 

If  when  in  Rome  one  must  do  as  the  Romans  do,  in  Mexico 
it  is  worldly-wise  to  follow  the  footsteps  of  Cortez.  Puebla  had 
been  held  up  as  an  especial  object  of  fear.  "  It  is  very  fanatical," 
they  said.  "  It  got  up  a  riot,  and  drove  out  the  Protestants  three 
years  ago.  It  is  a  city  of  priests,  and  the  sacred  city  of  Mexico. 
Keep  away."  So  we  went  to  Puebla.  Where  should  a  clergyman 
go  but  to  the  city  of  clericos  ?  Where  an  angel  of  the  churches  but 
to  "  The  Town  of  the  Angels,"  as  it  is  always  called  ? 

It  was  Friday,  the  7th  of  February,  that  two  of  us  essayed  to  take 
the  eleven  o'clock  train  for  a  ride  thither  of  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty  miles.  The  time  had  been  changed  to  twelve,  and  we 
occupied  it  in  lounging  through  a  park  adjoining  the  station,  which 
has  swings,  dance-sheds,  a  little  amphitheatre  for  gymnasts  and 
theatrical  performances,  and  a  level  tract  of  open  prairie,  edged 
with  trees.     This  is  a  great  Sunday  resort,  and  is  then  busy  with 


I76  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

dancers,  drinkers,  and  dissipaters  of  every  sort.  To-day  it  is  as 
empty  as  a  Protestant  church  on  week-days.  A  sluggish  canal 
girds  it,  covered  thick  with  green  scum,  which,  but  for  the  height 
of  the  land,  would  breed  a  deadly  miasma.  As  it  is,  the  tropical 
vegetation  goes  on  harmlessly,  and,  once  used  to  the  sight  of  it, 
not  disagreeably. 

Twelve  comes,  and  a  pulqui  train  also.  Said  train  is  a  heavy 
line  of  freight  cars,  two  stories  high,  with  barrels  of  the  detestable 
drunk-drink  of  the  country  piled  close  in  each  compartment.  The 
company  makes  its  chief  profits  out  of  this  business,  and  so  every 
body  and  every  train  have  to  give  way  to  its  demands. 

We  wait  till  three  before  we  start,  tacked  on  to  these  empty  pul- 
qui cars.  The  engine  gives  out,  and  leaves  us  forty  miles  out,  it- 
self or  its  engineer  overcome  with  pulqui.  Delay  follows  delay,  as 
one  sin  breeds  another,  until  it  is  after  four  in  the  morning  ere  we 
reach  Puebla,  where  we  should  have  been  at  seven  the  previous 
evening.  The  cars  are  not  made  for  night  travel,  nor  our  clothes. 
The  night  is  cool,  and  our  capes  are  light;  the  windows  of  the  cars 
will  not  stay  up,  and,  all  open  to  their  uttermost,  let  in  the  sharp 
air  of  the  snow  mountains.  We  shiver,  and  seek  to  sleep.  The 
earth  shivers  too,  either  in  sympathy  or  from  some  other  cause,  and 
quite  a  quaking  occurs  at  three  o'clock,  sufficient  to  send  the  peo- 
ple of  Puebla  out  of  their  beds  and  chambers.  Our  shakes  from 
cold  were  so  great  as  to  make  us  insensible  to  the  responsive  shiv- 
erings  of  the  earth.  At  five  we  get  to  our  hotel,  and  under  blank- 
ets, and  into  warmth  and  sleep. 

Puebla  lies  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  snow  range  from  Mexico. 
Popocatepetl  and  Iztaccihuatl  are  west  of  us  here,  east  there.  They 
are  closer  here,  it  being  only  about  half  the  distance,  or  thirty  miles, 
to  the  chief  of  these  from  this  city,  while  that  Popo,  etc.,  is  sixty 
miles  from  Mexico. 

Our  hotel  was  once  a  college  or  theological  school,  and  has  over 
the  graceful  iron  gate-way  that  opens  on  the  second,  and  properly 
hotel  balcony,  the  unusual  initials,  "I.  H.  S." — unusual  for  an  inn. 
"Jesus,  the  Saviour  of  men,"  has  at  last  found  his  name  over  the 


THE  PIOUS  INSCRIPTION. 


177 


STREET   VIEW   IN   PUEBLA. 

gate-way  of  the  public-house  from  which  He  was  driven  before  He 
was  born,  and  into  which  He  has  never  found  official  entrance 
since.  When  I  first  saw  this  gracefully-wrought  monogram,  on 
my  way  to  Mexico,  over  this  portal,  my  heart  rejoiced  at  this  rare 
expression  of  piety  in  a  tavern.  The  rejoicing  disappeared  when 
I  was  told  that  it  had  been  part  of  a  convent,  and  that  was  why 
the  sacred  letters  were  here.  I  found  that  even  Roman  Catholics, 
who  put  the  cross  upon  every  thing,  from  the  bells  of  the  don- 
keys to  the  pulqui  plant  (for  you  will  often  see  a  cross  in  a  pulqui 
field,  two  white  bits  of  straw  in  this  shape  stuck  in  the  edge  of  a 
leaf,  that  it  may  be  blessed  with  fruitfulness)  have  never  yet  pre- 
sumed to  erect  this  sign  upon  a  tavern.  It  only  got  in  here  by  a 
*  change  of  use.  Having  got  in  surreptitiously,  may  it  stay  in,  in 
spirit  as  well  as  letter  !  That  it  is  likely  so  to  do  will  be  seen  fur- 
ther on. 


I78  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

The  balcony  on  which  we  rest  incloses  an  open  court,  and  is 
wide,  high,  shaded,  and  enjoyable — very.  It  was  a  school  or  col- 
lege in  what  devout  Romanists  feel  were  the  good  old  days  of  con- 
vent and  Church  power,  and  therefore  has  a  learned  air  about  it 
even  in  its  transformation.  A  sleep  till  late  in  the  morning,  a 
breakfast  as  good  as  the  sleep,  and  we  sally  forth  to  take  the  town. 
That  is  not  so  easy  a  matter  to  do,  for  this  town  is  the  seat  of  the 
Church  power  of  Mexico.     And  it  happened  on  this  wise  : 

When  Cortez  invaded  the  country,  he  found  Cholula  the  sacred 
city.  There  were  the  chief  priests,  and  the  chief  temples,  and  the 
chief  gods.  A  population  that  he  put  at  three  hundred  thousand 
thronged  its  mud-walled  streets,  and  beggars  by  the  myriad  made 
it  look  like  old  Spain.  • 

After  the  reduction  of  the  country  it  was  thought  wise,  in  that 
wisdom  which  has  always  characterized  the  Roman  Church,  to  get 
up  a  Christian  city  over  against  the  heathen  metropolis.  So  Pue- 
bla,  or  "  The  Town,"  was  founded  six  miles  from  Cholula,  and  its 
walls  were  said  to  have  been  erected  amidst  the  singing  of  angels, 
an  improvement  on  Thebes  of  old,  which  only  had  Orpheus  to 
harp  up  its  walls.  As  a  proof  that  this  was  actually  the  case,  the 
full  name  of  the  town  is  Puebla  of  the  Angels,  "Pueblo,  de  los  An- 
gdos."     Is  not  that  proof  positive  ?     Q.  E.  D. 

Such  a  town,  of  course,  is  religious.  It  is  nothing  else.  It  was 
built  for  religion.  It  has  been  sustained  these  three  hundred  and 
fifty  years  on  religion.  Its  churches  are  grander  than  those  of 
Mexico,  its  convents  and  ecclesiastical  institutions  relatively  far 
more  numerous  and  wealthy.  Of  the  twenty-five  millions  of  its 
valuation  a  few  years  ago,  twenty  millions  was  the  share  which  the 
Church  possessed,  almost  a  complete  reversal  of  the  tithe  principle 
— four-fifths  to  the  priest  and  one  to  the  people.  Then  a  gold  and 
silver  chandelier  hung  in  its  cathedral,  and  these  materials  were 
more  common  than  brass.  They  were  nothing  reckoned  of  in 
'those  clays  of  priestly  glory,  the  Solomonic  reign  of  this  Church. 
The  chandelier  is  gone — at  least  I  did  not  see  it — and  the  cathe- 
dral is  shorn  of  much  of  its  gold  and  its  glory. 


PUEBLA   FAITHFUL    TO    THE   CHURCH. 


179 


RUINS   OF   THE   COVERED   WAY   TO 
THE   INQUISITION. 


Such  a  city,  so  built, 
so  owned,  so  occupied, 
would  naturally  be 
faithful  to  the  Church. 
It  could  not  well  be 
otherwise.  All  its  peo- 
ple get  their  living,  as 
did  Demetrius  of  Eph- 
esus,  by  making  silver 
shrines  and  such  like  for  their  goddess  Maria.  Their  devotion 
was  as  great  as  their  interests  were  close.  They  must  approve 
and  defend  the  Church  in  which  they  lived  and  moved  and  had 
their  daily  being.  They  must  oppose  all  beginnings  of  opposition 
to  her,  whether  local  or  national.  So  they  cast  themselves  into  the 
breach,  and  in  the  war  upon  the  Church  have  always  been  found 
in  the  front  rank  of  her  defenders.  This  city  has  been  the  seat 
of  her  power.  Mexico,  a  political  capital  far  more  than  a  relig- 
ious, has  been  indifferent  to  the  fate  of  Romanism.  Puebla, 
which  is  nothing  if  not  religious,  has  been  indifferent  to  everything 
but  Romanism. 

Of  course  such  a  stronghold  of  that  order  was  not  considered 
fruitful    soil   for   anti- Romanism.     "Very    fanatical,"   every    body 


180  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

says,  "is  Puebla."  It  has  proved  this  faith  by  its  works.  Among 
its  residents  is  Mr.  Blumenkron,  a  Jew,  born  in  Philadelphia,  raised 
in  Europe,  but  a  citizen  of  Mexico  these  twenty-five  years — a  Jew 
more  outwardly  than  inwardly,  a  gentleman  of  pluck  and  persist- 
ence. In  the  breaking  up  of  their  convents  he  secured  a  slice  of 
the  Santo  Domingo  for  himself,  the  Convent  of  the  Inquisition. 
He  also  bought  a  church.     This  last  he  offered  to  the  evangelists. 

Rev.  Gabriel  Ponce  de  Leon  came  down  from  Mexico  to  preach 
in  it.  The  people  rose  upon  him,  three  thousand  strong,  rushed 
into  the  little  church,  hurled  stones  at  his  head  and  those  of  his  as- 
sociates, who  fled  upon  the  roof,  and  from  roof  to  roof,  and  so  es- 
caped out  of  their  murderous  power.  I  have  never  heard  that  the 
grave  and  gentlemanly  Bishop  of  Puebla  ever  publicly  disapproved 
of  these  proceedings,  or  that  the  less  grave,  though  not  less  gentle- 
manly, Archbishop  of  Mexico  ever  censured  the  Bishop  of  Puebla 
for  not  condemning  the  conduct  of  his  own  church  members.  I 
fear  that  when,  the  next  Sunday,  he  and  these  rioters  repeated  the 
Litany  with  exceeding  warmth  and  fullness  of  response,  they  did 
not  pause  at  that  prayer,  "  From  battle,  and  murder,  and  sudden 
death,  good  Lord,  deliver  us,"  and  think  how  earnest  they  had  been 
the  Sabbath  before  to  inflict  murder  and  sudden  death  upon  an  in- 
nocent preacher  of  the  Gospel  of  the  blessed  God.  When  will  the 
Protestants  become  like  bloody  murderers  of  those  who  oppose 
them  ?  Have  they  not  been  so  in  some  of  their  branches  ?  "  Let 
him  that  thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall." 

That  riot  made  the  few  English  residents  timid,  and,  though  we 
went  to  the  houses  of  two  English  families,  we  could  not  get  either 
of  them  to  open  their  doors  to  an  English  service.  Disappointed, 
we  returned  to  the  hotel.  After  dinner  an  American  gentleman, 
Dr.  Tinker,  spoke  to  us  ;  we  told  him  our  failure.  He  said  we 
could  hold  a  meeting  in  the  hotel.  It  was  doubted.  He  imme- 
diately applied  to  the  landlord,  who  instantly  offered  his  best  and 
biggest  room,  and  there,  at  three  on  Sabbath  afternoon,  just  seven 
persons  assembled,  including  the  two  ministers,  and  service  was 
held — praise,  prayer,  and  preaching.     It  was  a  goodly  season,  and 


THE  STREETS  OF  PUEBLA.  181 

one  long  to  be  remembered.  May  all  who  attended  it  be  found 
in  that  perfect  congregation  of  which  this  number  was  the  perfect 
though  petite  unit :  seven,  the  beginning,  a  multitude  that  no  man 
can  number,  the  consummation. 

The  Town  of  the  Angels  is  beautiful,  and,  what  is  rare  in  the  cit- 
ies of  men,  exceedingly  clean.  It  lies  foursquare.  Its  streets  are 
paved  in  broad  blocks,  which  look  as  if  washed  daily,  so  lustrously 
they  shine  in  this  burning  sun.  They  are  wide  enough,  the  streets 
as  well  as  the  pavements  ;  the  passion  for  broad  thoroughfares  de- 
clining as  vou  enter  regions  where  the  ravs  of  the  sun  must  be  well 
mixed  with  shadow  to  make  them  endurable. 

Most  of  the  streets  are  raised  at  the  crossings  on  each  side  of  a 
narrow  channel  that  runs  through  their  centre  under  a  single  broad 
flat  stone,  which  channel  lets  the  torrents  in  the  rainy  season  flow 
to  the  river  without  disturbance  of  travel.  It  is  an  improvement 
on  the  stone  blocks  put  in  the  Baltimore  crossings  for  like  pur- 
poses. The  then  clean  streets  are  washed  by  rivulets  from  Iztac- 
cihuatl,  which  seems  to  lie  right  over  our  heads,  though  thirty 
miles  away.  How  superbly  sleeps  that  snow  range  above  this 
green  meadow  and  gray  town  !  Were  it  not  too  sad  a  reflection, 
one  might  fancy  it  a  body  shrouded  and  laid  in  state  on  that  high 
catafalque,  ten  thousand  feet  above  our  eyes. 

The  straight  streets  terminate  in  green  groves  or  brown  hills, 
which  look  as  if  they  were  gates,  so  close  they  meet  the  eye  in  this 
bright  air.  They  give  a  very  pleasant  effect  to  the  vista  that  opens 
to  you  whichever  way  you  gaze.  The  streets  stretch  no  little  dis- 
tance before  these  green  and  brown  gayeties  are  reached,  for  there 
are  sixty  thousand  people  in  this  basin,  and  these  are  not  packed 
closely  together. 

Let  us  climb  the  cathedral  tower,  and  take  in  the  whole  specta- 
cle. The  outlook  is  both  lovely  and  grand.  The  city  diminishes 
from  this  height,  but  its  environs  make  up  for  its  loss.  The  fields 
are  better  cultivated  than  those  about  Mexico,  or,  rather,  are  more 
open  and  more  farm-like,  those  of  the  latter  being  devoted  to  trees 
and  towns.     They   are   very  green    and   attractive.      Irrigation   is 


r82 


OUR   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


THE   CATHEDRAL   OF   PUEBLA. 


easy,  as  the  mountains  near  by  keep  the  streams  from  becoming 
dry.  The  hills  to  the  east  go  down  to  the  Gulf.  Orizaba's  white 
dome  flashes  among  them,  the  most  perfect  and  most  dazzling  pyr- 
amid that  nature  has  tossed  up  into  the  sky  for  the  envy  and  the 
despair  of  ambitious  mortals.  What  is  Cheops's  gray  hill  to  this 
polished  marble  glory?     How  petty  even  Emerson's  lines  sound 

here  : 

"  Morning  opes  with  haste  her  lids, 

To  gaze  upon  the  Pyramids." 

What  cares  morning  for  that  five  hundred  feet  high  of  matched 
granite?  As  much  as  the  proudest  statesman  for  the  infant's 
house  of  cards  or  blocks.  It  is  a  pretty  specimen  of  childish  inge- 
nuity, and  that  is  all.  Nature  in  every  line  leaves  art  as  matchless 
as  God  leaves  man.  She  is  its  offspring,  and  what  are  our  petty 
imitations  to  His  creations?  No.  Morning  sees  Orizaba  and 
Blanc  and  their  co-creations  not  only   long  before,  but  with  far 


THE   ALLIES   OE  CORTEZ.  ^ 

deeper  emotions  than  it  looks  on  our  feeble  products,  even  such  as 
may  seem  very  grand  when  compared  with  our  meanest  efforts. 

To  the  north  of  east  rises  Malinche,  brown  and  green  to  its  sum- 
mit, and  sometimes  white  there  also,  and  red  even,  and  black, 
when  the  smoke  and  fires  of  the  volcano  mix  their  colors  with  its 
snows  and  sides.  This  was  named  by  Cortez  for  his  Marina ; 
his  Indian  interpreter,  and  himself  also,  being  known  to  the  Indian 
allies  and  foes  by  the  name  of  Malinche.  It  is  the  only  one  of  the 
volcanoes  that  lost  its  old  Indian  name.  The  three  grander  ones 
preserved  their  original  titles  while  they  changed  owners.  It  lies 
nearest  Puebla,  and  looks  not  five  miles  off,  though  it  will  be  twen- 
ty ere  you  reach  its  base,  if  you  gallop  from  this  plaza. 

Farther  to  the  north,  and  trenching  a  little  on  the  west,  is  a 
range  of  whitened  cliffs,  without  any  vegetation  seemingly,  at  this 
distance,  or  possibility  of  any.  These  scarred  bluffs,  that  look  as 
if  made  of  salt,  are  Tlascala,  the  next  most  famous  spot  in  Mexico 
to  Mexico  herself.  For  there  was  the  little  republic  of  mountain- 
eers that  never  submitted  to  the  Aztec  yoke  ;  whom  Cortez  first 
conquered,  and  who  never  failed  to  be  his  allies  afterward;  on 
whom  he  relied  to  carry  him  through  all  his  perils,  and  to  whom 
he  gave  his  banner,  that  still  hangs  in  the  church  of  the  town  ;  to 
whom  also  he  gave  political  liberties  that  have  never  been  taken 
away.  A  railroad  station  is  not  three  miles  from  their  city,  called 
by  the  name  of  the  pluckiest,  worst,  and  best  specimen  of  the  Mex- 
ican of  to-day — Santa  Anna.  So  closely  is  Cortez  linked  to  this 
present. 

It  was  from  that  hill  fortress  that  he  marched  on  Cholula  be- 
cause they  told  him  not  to  ;  so  his  line  of  march  is  visible  to  the 
eye  from  this  tower.  Across  these  low  spurs  of  these  inclosing 
mountains  his  band  of  less  than  four  hundred  footmen,  and  a  score 
or  two  of  horsemen,  moved  slowly  upon  the  priestly  town,  confident 
in  their  arms,  their  horses,  their  faith,  their  leader,  and  themselves 
— a  five-fold  cord  which  was  not  easily  broken,  though  often  at- 
tempted in  the  terrible  strain  of  the  eighteen  months  which  fol- 
lowed. 


,S4  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

One  feels  a  growing  respect  for  that  general  as  he  stands  among 
these  scenes  of  his  career,  even  if  one  American  traveler  has  sought 
to  belittle  his  achievements,  and  to  make  his  conquest  of  the  Az- 
tecs a  mere  brush  of  trained  troops  with  untrained  savages.  Our 
trained  troops  had  many  years  of  hard  service  ere  they  rooted  out 
the  untrained  savages  of  Florida,  and  have  not  yet  subdued  those 
of  the  West.  But  this  general  in  a  year  and  a  half  brought  these 
organized  and  warlike  Aztecs  into  such  submission  that  they  have 
never  raised  their  heads  in  rebellion  since.  And  they  are  vastly 
superior  in  every  respect,  military  included,  to  the  Indians  of  our 
frontier.  They  are  the  soldiers  of  the  republic,  and  can  fight  as 
well  as  the  soldiers  of  France,  as  they  showed  in  this  very  Puebla, 
where  they  won  one  of  their  brilliant  battles  against  their  invad- 
ers, and  made  the  5th  of  May  famous  in  their  annals.  It  was 
something  to  subdue  such  a  people. 

Turn  now  due  west,  and  fill  your  gaze  with  the  grand  Snow 
•  Range.  It  is  all  embraced  at  a  glance.  Unlike  the  Alps,  which 
you  can  never  see  around,  these  Mexic  Alps  are  all  compassed  at 
once.  You  can  see  where  they  leave  the  plains,  and  where  they 
come  back  to  them.  You  can  ride  clear  around  them  if  you  please. 
From  the  first  breaking  of  the  soil  on  the  east,  between  Malinche 
and  Tlascala,  you  go  gradually  up  to  Iztaccihuatl,  descend  enough 
to  allow  a  pass  across  to  Mexico — the  pass  which  Cortez  and  Scott 
crossed — climb  again  the  steeper,  taller,  smoother,  and  handsomer 
sides  of  Popocatepetl,  and  "  coast "  down  his  western  side  into  the 
valleys  and  lakes  that  come  between  him  and  the  Toluca  range,  of 
which  Ajusca  is  the  chief  peak — a  range  that  shuts  in  Mexico  city 
on  the  south. 

I  leave  you  looking  at  this  complete  picture  while  I  look  at  this 
grand  bell  and  its  half-dozen  smaller  sisters  ;  for  the  clock  is  about 
to  strike.  Three  times  a  power  below  pulls  back  that  huge  copper 
hammer  before  it  lets  it  fall  on  the  huger  rim,  to  send  forth  a  thun- 
derous tone  that  makes  us  look  to  our  ears,  and  almost  fear  that 
we  shall  have  no  further  use  for  these  rudimental  wings,  as  Mr. 
Darwin  might  call  them,  did  he  choose  to  detect  in  man  a  descent 


A    LOOK  AT   THE    CATHEDRAL.  ^5 

from  angels  rather  than  from  apes.  The  power  that  slowly  and 
thricely  swings  the  hammer  ere  it  strikes  the  blow,  seems  so  labored 
and  so  human  that  we  are  sure  it  must  be  man.  It  is  so,  we  find, 
but  man  changed  into  a  machine — oiled,  and  burnished,  and  oper- 
ating like  clock-work  exactly. 

You  will  notice  here  the  number  of  the  churches.  Though 
French  cannon  have  blown  some  of  them  to  pieces,  and  Mexican 
changes  have  opened  streets  through  others,  still  the  domes  and 
turrets  are  very  numerous,  much  more  so  than  the  needs  of  the 
city.  Chief  of  these  are  the  Campana,  or  Jesuits'  church,  and  the 
San  Francisco,  which  stands  near  the  eastern  gate,  over  against  the 
Alameda,  with  its  paved  court  along  the  street-side,  covering  an 
acre  or  more  ;  its  deep  arcades  once  used  for  priestly  refreshment, 
now  as  barracks  for  soldiers  ;  and  its  tall,  square,  ungainly  towers, 
that  look  as  if  they  could  stand  many  an  earthquake  and  bombard- 
ment, as  they  have  already  done  for  a  hundred  years  and  more. 
They  all  have  one  model :  a  dome  over  the  centre  of  the  cross,  and 
two  towers  at  the  front  or  long  end  of  the  cross.  That  is  the  mod- 
el of  the  Mexican  church  ;  no  pinnacle,  no  shaft,  no  Gothic  arch — 
Moorish  and  Spanish,  and  that  only. 

Descend  and  look  at  this  cathedral.  It  stands,  four  feet  above 
the  street,  on  a  raised  pavement  that  is  of  vast  proportions.  It  is 
not  less  than  three  hundred  feet  before  you  reach  the  church  from 
the  beginning  of  this  rock-built  terrace.  The  effect  is  very  majes- 
tic. A  plaza  spreads  beyond  this  outside  church  floor,  with  a  gar- 
den and  flowers,  surrounded  by  a  street,  and  inclosed  by  a  very 
wide  and  shaded  arcade,  filled  with  curiosity  seekers  and  sellers. 

The  side  wall  of  the  church  rises  vast,  almost  windowless  and 
pillarless,  a  naked  wall  of  dark  gray  rock.  Enter.  The  effect  is 
grand  and  profound  ;  more  so,  I  think,  than  in  any  edifice  I  have 
seen  on  this  continent,  and  surpassed  by  but  few  on  the  other. 
The  towers  rise  in  grand  proportions,  and  the  bells  drop  down  the 
richest  fruit  of  melody.  Its  pillars  are  of  the  same  dark  porphy- 
ritic  rock,  but  are  built  up  in  stones  about  two  feet  in  width,  laid  in 
white  cement,  which  relieves  the  pillars  by  regular  lines  of  light. 


i86 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


These  vast  columns,  ninety  feet  high,  support  a  vaster  roof,  that 
seems  almost  aerial  in  its  height  and  grace.  The  springing  arches 
bend  like  a  hand  of  heaven,  each  ridge  a  finger,  above  the  prostrate 
worshipers.  The  altar  is  of  polished  pillars  of  marble,  with  each 
groove  edged  with  gold  plate.  The  effect  is  very  brilliant,  the  play 
of  gold  on  the  variegated  marbles  being  strange  and  striking.  One 
could  hardly  tell  if  they  were  not  all  gold.     Inside  these  flashing 


CONVENT   OF   SAN    DOMINGO,  CITY   OF    MEXICO. 

columns  is  a  mass  of  polished  green  and  almost  translucent  mar- 
ble, and  above  and  around  it  hang  all  manner  of  images:  popes 
and  ecclesiastics,  angels  and  apostles,  and,  over  all,  Mary,  God 
blessed  forever  in  this  ornate  idolatry. 

The  chapel  in  the  rear  of  the  high  altar  is  a  mass  of  gilded  and 
graven  images,  as  are  all  the  chapels  in  the  chief  churches  in  all 
the  cities.     None  is  more  resplendent  than  one  in  the  old  Church 


A    GHASTLY  DISCOVERY.  ^7 

of  Santo  Domingo  near  at  hand.  Every  crevice  of  the  large  chapel 
is  covered  with  carved  wood,  tossed  up  into  airy  forms  like  the  fili- 
gree work  of  a  gold  setting,  and  every  bit  of  this  carved  wood  or 
clay,  on  roof,  wall,  side,  and  every  spot  but  the  floor,  is  covered 
with  gilding.  It  is  a  little  antique,  but  when  first  opened  it  must 
have  well  -  nigh  blinded  the  eyes  of  the  worshipers.  So  yet  are 
some  of  the  chapels  of  the  cathedral  in  Mexico.  One  can  but  feel, 
as  he  looks  on  all  this  display,  the  fitness  of  one  of  Hood's  puns : 

"Just  like  a  button  is  his  soul, 
All  cased  in  triple  g(u)ilt." 

This  church,  in  its  service  and  its  life,  its  doctrines  and  devices,  is 
very  like  these  gorgeous  gildings, 

"All  cased  in  triple  g(u)ilt." 

That  Santo  Domingo  is  a  specimen.  Come  with  me  out  of  that 
dazzling  chapel  into  this  corridor  of  the  convent  to  which  that 
chapel  is  attached.  Here  was  another  like  glittering  room,  where 
a  rich  Pueblano  paid  four  hundred  dollars  to  have  his  body  rest 
a  night  on  its  way  to  the  grave.  Back  of  this  gorgeous  prelimina- 
ry to  the  sepulchre  and  the  worms,  you  see  this  closed-up  hole  in 
the  wall.  Knock  it  open.  There  is  a  room  ther.e,  if  room  it  may 
be  called,  where  two  or  three  can  crouch,  and  none  can  walk  or 
hardly  stand,  with  a  stone  bench,  and  a  hole  big  enough  to  pass  a 
piece  of  bread  through.  In  that  wall  were  confined  those  suspect- 
ed by  the  friars  of  St.  Dominic,  who  said  mass  so  ornately  in  that 
goiden  chapel.  Here  they  were  fed,  and  here,  when  the  order 
came,  food  ceased  to  come,  and  they  ceased  to  live.  Buried  with 
Christ  were  these  his  saints — buried  alive. 

Close  by  that  living  tomb  a  hole  was  broken  in  the  wall,  and  out 
of  it  rattled  a  heap  of  skulls  and  other  human  bones,  which  had 
been  tossed  into  a  vault  at  an  opening  above,  and  which  bottom 
of  the  vault  was  thus  opened  to  the  light,  and  all  their  deeds  be- 
came manifest  that  they  were  wrought  of  the  devil  and  not  of  God. 

This  Convent  of  the   Inquisition  was  located  in  the  very  heart 


iSS 


OUR    XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


of  the  city.  The  stone  whence  the  town  radiates  is  opposite  its 
entrance.  A  new  street  was  cut  through  it,  and  a  portion  of  it,  in- 
cluding that  place  of  sepulture  and  revelation,  has  been  purchased 
by  the  Missionary  Society  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 
That  is  a  sweet  and  sacred  revenge,  and  the  martyrs  will  feel  that 
their  sufferings  are  truly  avenged,  when  the  place  of  their  living 
burial  becomes  the  seat  of  a  living  Church,  preaching  the  faith  for 
which  they  suffered  even  unto  the  death. 


PRISONERS   OF  THE   INQUISITION. 

The  service  ai  the  cathedral  Sunday  morning  seemed  dry  and 
husky.  The  robes  of  the  officiators  were  faded,  the  young  preach- 
er was  afraid,  and  the  singing  as  hollow  as  if  performed  in  some 
non-Roman  churches  I  wot  of  in  Boston  and  New  York.  But  the 
evening  service,  which  the  bishop  conducted,  was  intense  enough. 
It  showed  how  fervid  yet  was  the  faith  of  Puebla,  and  how  easily  it 
might  burst  into  a  volcano  of  persecution.  The  audience  was  not 
over  four  or  five  hundred,  but  they  gathered  round  the  pulpit  on 
their  knees,  and  repeated  the  Litany  as  I  never  heard  it  before 
— so  intense,  so  united,  so  devotional.  The  tents  and  altars  of 
camp-mettings  do  not  surpass  them  in   earnestness  of  response. 


A   SABBATH- NIGHT  ENTERTAINMENT.  ^ 

Some  of  their  utterances  were  so  powerful  that  my  companion 
asserted  that  the  organ  accompanied  them.  This  I  denied,  and 
though  we  both  sat  directly  under  that  instrument,  it  is  a  dis- 
puted point  between  us  to  this  day  whether  there  was  any  sound 
but  the  human  voice.  I  heard  none  but  that  was  full  of  deepest 
and  strongest  and  most  united  exclamation.  Puebla  is  very  re- 
ligious, as  was  Athens,  and  very  superstitious,  and  worships  the  un- 
known God  with  a  devotion  worthy  a  clearer  faith.  May  it  soon 
attain  this  needed  grace  ! 

It  is  likely  so  to  do.  The  brisk  business  men  begin  to  see  that 
it  needs  closer  relations  with  the  outside  world.  It  was  left  thirty 
miles  off  the  track  when  the  road  from  Vera  Cruz  to  Mexico  was 
laid  out,  though  it  was  offered  direct  connection  if  it  would  build 
that  thirty  miles.  Its  refusal  to  make  this  investment  is  charged 
to  its  priesthood,  and  that  does  not  make  them  any  the  more  pop- 
ular. It  will  make  connections  with  other  routes,  and  regain  some 
of  the  trade  it  is  losing.  This  ambition  makes  it  more  willing:  to 
tolerate  all  faiths,  and  to  adjust  itself  to  the  future  of  Mexico.  Still 
that  toleration  in  this  town  will  be  slowest  of  the  slow.  Persecu- 
tion must  precede  such  liberty. 

That  Sabbath  night  the  crowds  in  the  Alameda  showed  little 
thought  of  the  bitter  wailing  of  the  cathedral  company.  A  multi- 
tude in  carriages,  on  horseback,  and  afoot,  thoughtless,  fashion-fol- 
lowing, were  without  God,  if  not  without  hope  in  the  world.  The 
golden  glory  on  the  snowy  brows  of  the  mountains — was  it  a  sign 
of  a  new  advent  that  should  make  the  Sabbath  a  delight,  holy  unto 
the  Lord,  honorable  ? 

There  is  a  cross  to  be  taken  here  by  the  saints  of  the  Lord  ere 
that  grace  dawns.  On  the  show-bills,  at  the  entertainment  for  the 
next  Sabbath  night  at  the  Theatre  Hidalgo,  was  a  play  entitled 
"The  Destruction  of  the  Protestants"  (La  Destruction  de  los  Pro- 
tcstantcs).  I  do  not  know  but  that  I  would  have  overcome  two 
scruples,  visiting  the  theatre  and  breaking  the  Sabbath,  had  I  been 
there  that  Sunday,  in  order  to  have  seen  of  what  spirit  some  of  the 
Pueblanos  yet  are,  and  how  they  would  have  received  the  portrayal 


!9o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

of  a  Saint  Bartholomew's  day.  The  two  scruples  have  been  over- 
come once  and  again,  though  not  at  the  same  time,  since  I  have 
visited  a  theatre,  for  religious  purposes,  on  Sunday,  and  have  wit- 
nessed Sunday-school  exhibitions  which  imitated  the  theatre  in  ev- 
ery thing  but  artistic  excellence  and  success. 

That  this  was  a  sort  of  Sunday-school  exhibition  was  clear,  from 
the  fact  that  that  Sunday  night  the  play  was  to  be  "  Samson." 
So  even  in  their  sports  the  angels  of  Puebla  are  pious.  Probably 
their  Sunday  bull-fights  are  with  the  sacred  bulls,  such  as  Egypt 
once  worshiped  ;  not  those  of  the  pope — these  they  never  fight. 

That  play  shows  what  their  earnestness  yet  is,  and  what  Protest- 
ants may  have  to  suffer  ere  the  city  is  truly  redeemed  to  Christ. 
Yet  they  are  willing  to  suffer.  Twelve  brethren  and  sisters  gath- 
ered round  their  beloved  minister  when  the  storm  broke  over  him 
of  pistols  and  paving- stones.  Sixty  gathered  to  hear  the  Word. 
They  will  come  together  again.  The  government  must  protect 
liberty  of  worship,  and  Puebla  be  indeed,  in  heart  as  well  as  in 
name,  the  City  of  the  Angels ;  religious  with  a  happy  religion  that 
does  not  wail  with  ceaseless  confession,  Mea  culpa,  mea  maxima 
culpa,  "  My  fault,  my  greatest  fault,"  but  exclaims  in  joyful  confi- 
dence, 

"My  God  is  reconciled  ; 

His  pard'ning  voice  I  hear  ; 
He  owns  me  for  his  child, 

I  can  no  longer  fear. 
With  confidence  I  now  draw  nigh, 
And  Father,  Abba,  Father,  cry." 

May  that  soon  be  the  blessed  experience  of  this  City  of  the 
Saints  and  the  Angels  ! 


A   START  ON  HORSEBACK.  jgi 


.       VIII. 

THE  MOST  ANCIENT  AMERICAN  MECCA. 

On  Horse.  —  Irrigation.  —  Entrance  to  Cholula. — Deserted  Churches. — Plaza 
Grande,  and  its  Cortez  Horror. — A  wide-awake  Priest. — A  wide  View  from 
the  Summit. — A  costly  Trifle. — The  Ride  back. 

Puebla  is  a  modern  and  made-up  Mecca,  an  imitation,  and  not 
an  original.  Let  us  to  the  true.  Horseback  is  your  only  mode 
of  riding  here,  and  the  horse  is  made  for  the  business.  In  the 
States  you  run  small  chance  of  getting  trained  steeds  for  such 
service.  Here  you  find  none  else.  In  Mexico  city  are  fancy 
teams,  but  even  there  the  back  is  the  favorite  part  of  the  horse. 
Especially  is  it  so  everywhere  else. 

Mr.  Marshall,  an  American  Englishman,  whose  two  sons  were 
educated  at  Lowell  and  Chicago,  furnishes  us  with  horses,  four  in 
all.  A  gentleman  and  his  wife  accompany  us,  with  the  guide, 
an  old  gentleman,  whose  pantaloons,  like  Mr.  Grimes,  the  ancient's, 
coat,  are  all  buttoned  down,  though  not  before,  but  on  the  side, 
silver  buttons  too,  and  as  thick  together  as  it  is  possible  to  place 
them.  Some  of  these  garments,  it  is  said  he  has,  worth  five  hun- 
dred dollars.  It  would  better  pay  his  wife  to  wear  the  breeches 
than  in  ordinary  cases  of  uxurious  usurpation.  His  horse  was  as 
much  thought  of  as  his  pantaloons,  and  the  one  danced  and  the 
other  shone,  and  warmed  the  cockles  of  the  old  man's  heart,  so 
that  he  sang  love -songs  with  a  voice  approaching  the  childish 
treble  and  a  sentiment  equally  infantile  or  senile. 

The  morning  was  magnificent,  as  all  mornings  are  here,  when 
this  company  of  ten  galloped  through  the  yet  empty  streets  of 
Puebla.  The  country  is  soon  reached,  and  the  volcanoes  rise  up 
before  us  as  only  a  mile  or  two  away.      How  grand  they  glowed  in 


Ig2  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

that  coming  sun  !  The  new  paseo  is  paced,  a  pretty  park  and 
drive,  whose  trees  were  leveled  to  let  the  French  balls  in  and  the 
.Mexican  out.  The  road  runs  straight  to  the  pyramid  of  Cholula, 
which  looks  as  if  it  hugged  the  base  of  Popocatepetl,  though  it  is 
twenty-five  miles  therefrom. 

Irrigation  makes  the  fields  green  ;  not  here,  as  Bryant  found  it 
in  Berkshire,  where   he   wrote  his  "Thanatopsis,"  and  where  he 

says  are 

"The  complaining  brooks 

That  make  the  meadows  green." 

There  is  no  complaining  in  these  brooks,  albeit  they  do  "  a  heap" 
more  business  than  those  that  make  "  a  heap  "  more  of  complaint, 
as  is  the  case  upward  through  beast  to  man.  The  howling  cat 
catches  no  mice,  and  the  brawling  woman  that  Solomon  was  so 
afraid  of,  and  to  whom  in  his  establishment  he  was  able  to  give 
a  wide  house,  is  not  the  one  he  describes  in  the  last  verses  of 
his  Proverbs.  So  this  land  is  changed  from  a  brown  and  barren 
desolation  into  beauty  and. abundance  by  trickling  a  few  inches 
of  water  along  a  shovel-wide  path.  That  is  all.  It  is  the  little 
that  makes  the  muckle  here  and  elsewhere,  in  this  and  in  every 
thing. 

A  ride  of  an  hour  and  a  half  brings  us  to  the  mud-brick  huts 
that  begin  the  once  magnificent  city  of  Cholula.  I  fear  the  huts 
were  about  the  same  sort  when  the  city  was  at  the  height  of  its 
magnificence.  The  pepper,  or  Peru,  tree  grows  thickly  and  use- 
lessly, except  to  the  eye  and  the  birds — the  redness  of  its  berry 
pleasing  our  vision,  and  its  bitter  pungency  their  taste.  The  ma- 
guey grows  yet  finer  to  the  eye  and  yet  worse  to  the  taste.  It 
stretches  out  superbly  over  these  black  and  level  fields.  No  won- 
der the  dwellings  are  of  dirt,  where  pulqui  and  pepper  are  the 
chief  products  of  the  soil. 

We  cross  a  spur  of  the  pyramid,  but  leave  its  exploration  till  the 
end  of  our  trip.  That  spur  through  which  the  road  is  cut  reveals 
the  artificial  nature  of  the  mound,  for  its  layers  of  thin  brick  and 
thick  mud  are  visible  on  either  side  of  the  road,  and  far  up  on  the 


A  MASSACRE  BY  CORTEZ.  Ig3 

chief  side  to  where  the  strata  are  lost  in  the  trees  and  brush  that 
grow  upon  them. 

On  this  rising  edge  of  the  mound  you  note  the  number  and  size 
of  the  churches  that  once  replaced  in  this  now  deserted  city  the  old 
idolatry  with  the  new.  Churches  are  everywhere  and  of  every  size, 
hidden  away  among  the  trees,  standing  out  to  view  in  the  plaza, 
and  on  the  hill  slopes  surrounding  the  town.  There  is  about  one 
apiece  for  every  family,  if  not  for  every  soul;  though  in  this  latter 
list,  if  clogs  were  included— and  John  Wesley  hints  that  they  may 
be — the  churches  may  not  be  too  numerous,  even  now.  All  church 
and  no  people  seems  to  be  the  present  character  of  the  town. 

This  was  either  a  proof  that  the  town  had  left  the  churches,  or 
that  Cortez  and  his  successors  were  not  content  alone  with  build- 
ing Puebla,  or  with  having  the  angels  do  it,  but  thought  it  good 
policy  to  fill  the  old  Aztec  and  Toltec  city  with  their  new  gods. 
Whatever  prompted  them,  the  fact  remains  —  and  it  is  about  all 
that  does  remain — that  domes  and  towers  rise  everywhere  in  open 
fields,  and  pastures  without  inhabitant.  I  doubt  if  such  a  sort  of 
desolation  exists  elsewhere  on  the  earth. 

We  drive  a  short  distance  along  a  line  of  adobe  huts,  a  single 
story  high,  and  mostly  opening  on  the  street,  sometimes  used  as 
little  shops  and  stores,  and  sometimes  containing  a  whole  and  not 
a  small  family  in  a  single  squalid  room.  The  opposite  side  is  a 
part  of  the  inclosure  of  a  gigantic  church.  A  few  moments  and 
the  Plaza  Grande  opens  on  us,  as  large  as  that  of  Mexico,  but  void 
of  gardens,  foliage,  and  folks,  in  all  of  which  that  place  abounds. 

Here  or  hereabouts  occurred  the  crudest  massacre  of  all  that 
marked  the  march  of  Cortez.  The  cunning,  priestly  city  welcomed 
him  timidly,  but  with  seeming  cordiality.  Forced  by  the  superior 
warlike  nature  of  the  Mexican  rulers,  the  officials  plotted  a  sur- 
prise, making  pits  in  the  streets  for  his  horses,  and  arranging  the 
house  roofs  for  assault.  Malinche  learned  the  secret  through  a 
wife  of  a  cazique,  and  revealed  it  to  Cortez.  He  had  the  plaza 
filled  with  the  authorities  and  thousands  of  packmen,  to  see  and 
help  him  off;  and  on  just  such  a  calm,  sweet,  glorious  morning  as 


194  orR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

this,  poured  his  musketry  and  cannon  upon  the  harmless,  helpless 
mass,  slaughtering  them  by  the  thousands.  Cannon  also  com- 
manded the  approaches  to  the  place,  and  swept  down  all  the  ex- 
cited masses  that  attempted  to  enter  and  rescue  their  brethren. 
That  deed  gave  him  free  egress  from  this  city  and  free  ingress  to 
Mexico  ;  for  it  inspired  the  country  with  great  fear  of  these  invad- 
ers, who  could  learn  every  secret  and  master  every  opposition. 

The  plaza  gives  no  sign  of  this  terrible  history.  Two  sides  of 
it  are  occupied  with  churches,  one  with  small  shops  and  stores,  and 
one  with  a  long,  wide,  handsome  arcade,  as  empty  of  people,  how- 
ever, as  a  handsome  head  usually  is  of  sense.  A  few  Indian  wom- 
en, descendants  of  the  poor  fellows  who  were  here  done  unto  the 
death,  sit  on  their  mats  among  their  beans,  bananas,  oranges,  wa- 
ter-melons, and  other  summer  fruits,  and  do  a  little  trading  for  the 
little  town. 

A  high  wall  incloses  the  immense  area  assigned  to  the  great 
church,  which  fills  all  the  eastern  side  of  the  plaza  and  goes  back 
for  several  acres,  an  empty  court  and  church  and  convent,  except 
a  corner  occupied  by  soldiers.  The  smaller  church  on  the  north 
side  was  erected  by  Cortez,  so  it  is  said,  and  contains  the  little  im- 
age of  the  Virgin  which  he  carried  in  all  his  campaigns.  It  is  a 
small  church,  and  not  rich  in  any  of  its  trappings.  I  did  not  know 
that  the  Cortez's  Virgin  was  there,  and  so,  if  I  saw  it,  saw  it  not. 
It  shows  the  tact  of  this  general,  that  he  should  put  his  battle  ban- 
ner in  charge  of  the  righting  Tlascalans,  and  his  worshiped  image 
in  charge  of  the  praying  Cholulans.  Suum  cuique.  Each  had  its 
own,  and  the  country  saw,  Spanish  and  Mexic,  the  fitness  of  the 
appropriation. 

A  ride  through  one  of  the  half-dozen  occupied  streets,  and  that 
but  poorly  inhabited,  carries  us  by  the  door  of  an  exceedingly  fresh 
and  pretty  chapel.  It  is  flush  to  the  sidewalk,  and  brilliant  with 
all  manner  of  stucco  and  fancy-colored  washes.  It  is  not  paint, 
but  water-colors,  that  here  set  off  the  houses.  Puebla  is  being 
thus  rewashed  under  orders  of  the  governor,  who  declares  if  each 
house  is  not  thus  refreshened  within  a  certain  time  he  will  make  the 


A   SERVICE   AT  CHOLULA. 


195 


CHURCH   BUILT   BY   CORTEZ. 


owner  pay  a  fine  and  the 
expenses  of  its  recoloring. 
So  that  city  is  busy  in 
rewashing  its  walls  in  all 
manner  of  pretty  stripes 
and  tints,  almost  the  only 
business  in  which  it  is  very 
active,  though  it  is  not  es- 
pecially dull.  Such  wash- 
es hold  several  years,  and 
are  a  cheap  and  pretty 
way  of  dressing  up,  a  town. 

Service  is  going  on  in 
this  only  renewed  church 
of  Cholula.  We  dismount 
and  enter.  It  is  exceed- 
ing pretty;  gold,  and  blue, 

and  green,  and  crimson,  and  all  manner  of  dainty  hues  flash  from  its 
walls  and  ceiling.  Stucco,  in  images,  scrolls,  and  other  delectable 
patterns,  shines  whitely  and  brightly  from  every  "nook  and  coigne 
of  vantage."  A  score  or  two  of  pious  sisters,  with  here  and  there 
a  brother  (just  like  the  Protestants  in  that  respect),  are  worship- 
fully  following  the  old  priest  at  the  altar  in  his  sacred  mumblings. 
How  much  better  a  dear,  delightful  prayer-meeting,  even  in  a  less 
glowing  chapel !  Yet  I  confess  to  a  liking  to  these  bright  colors, 
and  know  not  why  they  should  be  kept  out  of  the  house  of  God. 
His  own  house,  builded  by  His  own  hands,  whether  of  the  earth 
about  us  or  the  heavens  above  us,  is  thus  arrayed,  only  far  more 
splendidly.  And  Moses  and  Solomon  each  set  forth  their  Taber- 
nacle and  Temple  in  gorgeous  hues  and  dyes,  and  gold  and  pre- 
cious stuffs.  Let  not  the  worshiper  worship  the  array,  and  he  can 
adorn  it  after  his  pleasure  and  his  purse. 

That  old  padre  would  make  a  good  Methodist  in  one  respect, 
perhaps  in  others  ;  he  knew  how  to  take  a  poor  appointment  and 
make  it  a  good  one.     That  is  more  than   many  a  Protestant  can 


196 


OUR   XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


do.  He  did  not  grumble  when  sent  to  this  "finished"  town. 
Western  readers  know  what  that  word  means.  The  East  has 
none  such.  He  came  and  saw,  and  did  not  like  the  dilapidated 
condition  of  affairs,  and  set  himself  to  work  to  get  up  a  new 
church,  or  to  make  an  old  one  as  good  as  new.  There  was  not 
much  money  here,  as  there  is  not  usually  where  such  preachers  are 
stationed.  But  he  gets  what  he  can  at  home,  and  pushes  abroad  ; 
begs  it,  brick  by  brick,  and  tint  by  tint,  and  penny  by  penny,  poco 
poquito,  little  and  least,  till  he  gets  the  money  and  work,  and  fin- 
ishes his  cozy  box  for  his  half  a  hundred  worshipers.  A  hundred 
would  jam  it.  That  is  the  only  non-Methodistic  part  of  the  pro- 
cedure. But  in  a  town  which  is  full  of  big  and  empty  churches,  he 
may  have  thought  that  it  was  well  to  make  an  exception,  and  so  he 
chose  "a  little  house  well  filled." 

I  hope  he  may  yet  be  found  among  the  Protestant  ministers. 
He  will  be  one  of  the  most  useful  when  he  does  come. 

We  ride  a  mile  farther,  past  a  big  church  ruin — which  my  party 
offer  me  for  our  church,  but  which  is  respectfully  declined  in  fa- 
vor of  the  gay  little  box  just  left — and,  going  through  a  stretch  of 
green  fields,  ascend  a  slight  hill,  ride  up  a  string  of  broad  stone 
steps,  and  halt  at  the  closed  doors  of  the  Church  of  Guadalupe. 
There  are  many  of  that  name  in  this  country,  the  Divine  Virgin 
near  Mexico  not  being  one-childed  in  respect  to  temples  or  idola- 
ters, if  she  was,  as  the  Romanists  assert,  in  respect  to  her  married 
family. 

The  view  is  beautiful,  but  desolate.  Streets  run  straight  in  all 
directions,  but  without  a  house.  Churches  besprinkle  the  vacant 
landscape.  The  maguey  makes  the  fields  green,  and  grasses  more 
fit  for  maji  and  beast  cover  some  of  the  pastures  with  their  early 
beauty.  The  mountains  are  about  us,  vast  and  lonely,  and  "  all 
the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds."  It  is  not  so  much  a  church  town 
as  a  church-yard. 

Before  us  rises  the  famous  Pyramid.  We  came  here  to  get  the 
right  point  of  observation  for  that  curiosity.  It  comes  forth  out  of 
a  very  level  plain,  and  is  evidently  built  up  from  that  base.     Some 


THE  SIZE   OF  THE  PYRAMID.  I97 

fancy  that  it  is  simply  a  hill  enlarged,  but  a  glance  from  this  spot 
will  change  that  theory.  It  covers  over  forty  acres,  and  is  two 
hundred  and  three  feet  high.  So  the  measurements  by  Lieutenant 
Beauregard  attest ;  and  he  was  a  good  scholar  then,  if  not  a  good 
citizen  afterward.  But  he  has  become  that  also  lately,  and  makes 
his  beginning  and  end  harmonious  in  patriotism. 

Mr.  Beecher  says  somewhere  that  one  can  understand  the  labor 
involved  in  making  a  mountain  by  shoveling  and  wheeling  and 
dumping  a  few  barrows  of  earth  in  his  own  lot.  The  Cholulans 
shoveled,  wheeled,  and  dumped  (though,  indeed,  they  did  not  wheel, 
but  carried  it  on  their  shoulders  and  heads)  not  less  than  a  score 
or  two  of  millions  of  such  barrow-loads,  to  make  a  temple  for  their 
chief  god,  and  on  which  many  of  those  who  built  it,  or  their  chil- 
dren, were  offered  in  sacrifice.  It  is  a  big  as  well  as  a  bad  faith  that 
would  thus  make  multitudes  erect  joyfully  their  own  funeral  pyre. 

This  pyre,  with  a  base  of  forty  acres,  is  of  the  size  of  Boston 
Common.  Conceive  of  those  free -religion  Puritans  leveling  off 
that  sacred  place,  and  bringing  loads  of  earth  from  Brighton,  Brook- 
line,  Dorchester,  and  Somerville  to  erect  the  whole  leveled  square 
into  a  pyramid  as  high  as  the  pine-apple  knob  of  its  State-house  ! 
Up,  up,  up  slowly  creeps  the  mighty  plateau,  growing  narrow  as  it 
grows  tall,  like  many  uplifted  men.  Yet  when  above  the  tallest 
house  of  Beacon  Street,  it  is  twenty  acres  across  ;  and  when  it 
reaches  the  dome  of  the  Capitol,  it  is  ten  acres  across  ;  and  when 
it  stops  at  the  pine -apple  knob,  it  is  two  or  three  acres  across. 
And  all  this  for  faith,  and  a  faith  which  involved  their  own  immo- 
lation, or  that  of  their  nearest  friends  and  kindred  !  How  happens 
it  that  Boston  goes  to  Buddha  for  its  god?  He  lies  nearer  home 
on  these  Aztec  plains  ;  he  is  a  native  American,  the  better  suiting 
their  national  conceit;  he  shows  us  a  faith  that  makes  Buddha's 
nirvana  tame,  for  suicide  is  always  baser  than  submission  to  anoth- 
er's knife.  The  pyramid  of  Cholula  is  the  shrine  that  should  draw 
these  worshipers.  Here  is  the  eleventh  religion  that  should  swal 
low  up  all  their  ten,  for  it  is  more  majestic  than  any  save  the  One 
that  builds  its  temple  in  the  skies,  and  offers  up  its  one  Victim,  the 


lyS 


OCR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


,.;*&  ■ 


aM 


r-i'- 


PYRAMID   OF   CHOLULA. 


Divine  Author  thereof,  freely  and  of  His  own  will,  for  the  world's 
salvation. 

The  pyramid  that  rises  before  us  is  one  of  the  chief  illustrations 
on  the  surface  of  the  earth  of  the  piety  and  powerlessness  of  man. 
Its  base  is  twice  the  width  of  Cheops,  though  its  height  is  less  than 
half.  It  has  another  disadvantage  :  its  Egyptian  kin  are  placed 
on  the  edge  of  a  flat  plain  and  of  low  hills,  both  of  which  they  eas- 
ily overmaster.  This  is  on  the  edge  of  a  plain,  but  is  under  the 
shadow  of  the  tallest  mountains  on  the  globe.  Not  thirty  miles 
distant  are  their  peaks,  not  five,  the  beginning  of  their  upheavals. 
It  was  a  daring  thought  to  put  a  growth  of  man  by  the  side  of 
these  stupendous  domes,  and  as  a  work  of  man  it  deserves  the 
greater  commendation  for  the  daring. 

The  Chicagoans  are  contemplating  transferring  some  boulders 


NUMEROUS   CHURCHES.  I9g 

to  their  boulevards.  They  may  find  encouragement  in  this  Cho- 
lula  labor  of  love  and  faith,  done  probably  at  small  expense,  for 
love  and  faith  work  cheap  ;  done  in  the  long-vanished  centuries, 
when  love  and  faith,  if  no  holier  and  warmer  than  now,  were  none 
the  less  active  and  powerful  in  their  ignorance — more  so,  I  fear, 
than  ours  is,  with  all  the  light  of  the  Gospel  shining  straight  upon 
our  hearts.  Shall  these  poor  blinded  worshipers,  like  the  men  of 
Sodom  and  those  of  Chorazin,  rise  up  in  the  judgment  against  us, 
saying,  "  If  we  had  seen  your  day  we  should  have  accepted  it  in 
gladness  and  fullness  of  heart  ?" 

We  ride  round  the  church  where  we  have  been  looking  and  mor- 
alizing, witness  the  verdant  and  magnificent  desolation  on  even- 
side,  pass  through  the  still,  deserted  town,  and  climb  the  sides  of 
♦  the  man-made  hill.  The  ascent  convinces  you  of  its  artificial  con- 
struction and  of  its  remarkable  proportions.  These  forty  acres 
are  piled  up  in  valleys  and  hill  slopes,  irregular  and  natural  to-day. 
The  path  is  cut  under  steep  and  lofty  cliffs,  on  whose  exposed  side 
is  a  mass  of  stratifications,  brick  and  clay,  in  regular  layers.  Trees 
grow  along  the  path,  tall  and  old  ;  fruit  and  flower  trees  of  the 
tropics,  brilliant  in  colors  and  green  with  fruit.  Orchards  open 
half-way  up;  ravines  drop  down  close  to  the  summit.  All  the 
traits  of  natural  hills  appear. 

The  pyramid  once  stood,  evidently,  near  the  heart  of  the  town. 
From  it,  in  every  direction,  straight  and  comely  avenues  still  pro- 
ceed. From  these,  equally  straight  streets  stretch  for  a  mile  or 
more  in  all  directions.  These  streets,  except  a  square  or  two 
about  the  plaza,  are  entirely  void  of  houses,  except  the  churches. 
These  stand  forth  on  all  sides,  near  and  far,  some  skirting  the 
bases  of  the  mountain  range,  whose  edge  comes  within  two  or 
three  miles  of  this  spot.  We  counted  forty-one  of  these  edifices, 
and  some  were  omitted  even  then.  Almost  fifty  churches  still 
stand  about  this  pyramid,  many  of  them  large  and  elaborate  struc- 
tures, all  of  them  erected  at  no  small  cost  by  the  conquerors  and 
their  successors.  The  Indian  Mecca  is  gone,  but  these  efforts  to 
subdue  it  to  the  true  faith  remain. 


200 


OUR    Ml. XT- DOOR   NEIGHBOR. 


Not  content  with  these  ancient  efforts  to  hold  Cholula,  the  at- 
tempt is  yet  kept  up.  This  summit  exhibits  its  most  striking  ex- 
pression. The  church  that  long  stood  here  was  cast  down  by  an 
earthquake  not  long  since,  and  another  is  nearly  completed  in  its 
place.  It  is  small,  not  over  fifty  by  twenty.  The  tiny  chancel 
may  be  a  few  feet  wider.  Five  altars  are  in  this  box,  one  each  side 
of  the  entrance,  one  each  end  of  the  chancel,  and  one  at  the  usual 


VIEW    FROM   THE   PYRAMID   OF  CHOLULA. 

place,  in  the  rear  end  of  the  chapel.  On  this  bit  of  stone  and  plas- 
ter are  lavished  more  beauty  and  luxury  than  on  any  like  structure 
I  have  seen,  here  or  elsewhere.  It  is  not  covered  thick  with  gold- 
leaf,  as  is  the  chapel  in  the  Church  of  Santo  Domingo  in  Puebla, 
or  some  of  the  chapels  in  Mexico.  They  are  old-fashioned.  This 
is  up  with  the  times.  Delicate  tints,  abundant  enamel  or  porce- 
lain in  various  colors,  carved  work  in  green,  and  scarlet,  and  blue, 


QUETZALCOTL,   THE  IDOL.  201 

and  gold,  choice  paintings,  frescoed  marbles  that  make  the  real 
look  cheap,  real  marbles  that  hardly  make  their  counterfeits  cheap- 
er, everywhere  "  a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene."  The  work  has  cost 
thirty  thousand  dollars,  and  much  of  it  has  been  given,  both  of  la- 
bor and  of  substance.  Not  less  than  fifty  thousand  dollars  is  its 
actual  cost,  and  that  is  half,  at  least,  what  it  could  be  done  for  in 
the  States. 

And  all  this  for  a  box  that  will  not  accommodate  one  hundred 
people,  and  that  no  hundred  people  will  ever  visit  at  one  time  ex- 
cept when  it  is  dedicated,  and  possibly  some  feast  day  or  two  dur- 
ing the  year. 

It  is  a  specimen  of  Romanism.  Every  thing  for  effect.  A  su- 
perb little  chapel  on  the  top  of  this  pyramid  was  essential  to  the 
predominance  of  the  system,  possibly,  in  all  the  State.  So  the 
funds  of  the  Church  are  lavished  on  it  without  stint,  and  Our  Lady 
of  the  Remedies,  to  whom  it  is  dedicated,  is  to  be  complimented 
by  the  prettiest  bit  of  useless  jewelry  that  has  been  laid  at  her 
shrine  for  many  a  day. 

This  pyramid,  it  is  said,  was  dedicated  to  the  worship  of  the 
white  and  benevolent  god,  Quetzalcotl.  He  it  was  who  gave  the 
people  many  good  lessons,  and  left  for  the  East,  saying  he  would 
return  again.  It  was  his  expected  return  that  made  so  many  of 
the  people  accept  Cortez  and  his  faith  as  the  fulfillment  of  that 
prophecy.  And,  despite  the  cruelties  of  the  Spaniards  and  the  im- 
perfections of  their  faith,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  benevolent  god 
did  return  in  that  invasion.  The  horrid  human  sacrifices  that  took 
place  on  this  very  summit  to  this  same  god — twelve  thousand  a 
year,  it  is  said — show  how  needful  was  that  advent.  Seventy  thou- 
sand persons  were  sacrificed  to  the  god  of  war  in  Mexico  in  the 
year  i486 — only  thirty-five  years  before  that  city  fell.  It  was  time 
for  it  to  fall. 

This  summit,  and  many  lesser  ones  about  it,  smoked  daily  with 

these  victims.     Their  hearts  were  being  cut  out,  three  every  hour 

of  every  day,  year  in  and  year  out,  and  their  bodies  served  up  in 

daily  religious  and  sacramental  repast.     Was  it  not  time  that  it 

14 


202  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

came  to  an  end  ?  True,  a  low  type  of  Christianity  replaced  it ;  but 
any  type  is  infinitely  superior  to  that  intolerable  barbarism.  The 
natives  were  oppressed  afterward,  yet  no  more  than  they  had  been, 
while  they  never  after  fed  an  altar  or  a  banquet.  The  poor  fami- 
ly remained  poor,  but  it  remained  united.  The  Virgin  and  her 
Child  were  a  tender  grace  in  idea  and  worship  compared  with 
those  awful  demons.  And  to-day  this  people  are  getting  ready 
for  the  purer  form  of  Gospel  truth  that  is  coining  to  their  doors. 
They  will  reject  all  idolatry  as  they  did  those  devouring  devils. 
They  will  accept  the  whole  Gospel  with  more  heartiness  than  they 
did  that  imperfect  expression  of  it.  The  mound  of  Cholula  shall 
be  consecrated  to  the  Saviour  of  Remedies,  the  Divine  and  only 
Physician,  and  these  natives  shall  use  their  rare  gifts,  not  in  orna- 
mentations which  lead  astray,  but  in  elevating  contributions  to 
Him  who  gave  their  gifts,  and  will  rejoice  in  their  befitting  conse- 
cration. 

Our  ride  wound  through  gardens  where  the  peach-tree  hung  full 
of  blossoms,  where  the  crab-apple  was  yellow  ripe,  where  oranges 
flourished,  and  all  other  tropical  delights.  It  seemed  a  very  para- 
dise, and  it  was.  Only  man  —  how  poor,  how  hapless  his  lot ! 
What  huts  he  hid  himself  in  ;  what  sorry  outfit  for  life !  Table 
and  chairs  has  he  none,  nor  bedsteads,  nor  beds  ;  just  a  mat  on 
the  floor,  a  bowl  to  steam  his  beans  in,  and  a  platter  on  which 
to  fry  his  tortillas.  No  books,  no  papers,  no  apartments,  parlor, 
kitchen,  nor  bedroom. 

Is  there  not  a  chance  for  the  Gospel  here?  The  New  Testa- 
ment and  a  fine-tooth  comb  have  been  suggested  as  the  form  this 
coming  revelation  should  take.  They  are  a  good  beginning,  but 
a  vast  structure  of  society  and  soul  must  be  built  thereupon  ;  a 
structure  of  beauty  not  like  that  on  the  pyramid,  simply  useless, 
and  therefore  vain,  nor  like  that  of  the  pyramid  itself,  solid  but 
earthly,  but  a  structure  of  truth,  of  virtue,  of  culture,  of  sweetness, 
of  every  thing  included  in  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 

One  can  see  the  answer  of  Romanism  in  this  ruined  Cholula  and 
flourishing  Puebla.     These  sacred  cities  have  not  advanced  these 


THE  DA  WN  APPEARING.  203 

natives  one  iota  in  culture.  The  untutored,  undeveloped  native 
that  first  looked  on  Cortez,  it  was,  in  dress  and  mien  and  nature, 
that  bowed  about  the  bishop  in  those  Sabbath  vespers.  Three 
hundred  and  fifty  years,  nine  generations  of  Roman  Catholic  cul- 
ture, have  not  advanced  him  a  step,  except  in  abolishing  human 
sacrifice,  and  that  the  mass  of  the  people  accepted  rather  than  ap- 
proved. Shall  the  other  forms  and  forces  of  Christ  have  no  better 
report  in  their  trial  of  centuries?  If  not,  God  will  reject  them,  as 
he  is  evidently  rejecting  this  long  dominant  religion.  Not  centu- 
ries, not  years  even,  hardly  months,  should  elapse  before  these  peo- 
ple give  evidence  of  the  radical  change  the  true  Gospel  works  in 
its  believers.  They  are  showing  it  already.  They  will  more  and 
more.  The  better  clothes  they  wear  to  Protestant  service  is  a 
sign  of  the  inward  change.  Cholula  and  Puebla  will  be  crowned 
with  a  coming  Christian  civilization  that  will  make  all  their  past 
barbaric.     Amen  and  amen  ! 


204  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


IX. 

A  DAY  AND  NIGHT  AT  EL  DESIERTO. 

A  Point  of  View. — The  Woods:  their  Peril  and  Preservation. — How  we  got 
here. — Chapultepec. — Tacubaya. — Santa  Fe. — Contadera. — Guajimalpa. — The 
Forest. — The  Shot. —  Solitude. — The  Ruin.  —  Its  Inquisition.— A  Bowl  of 
Song. —  Moonlight  Pleasure  and  all-night  Horror. —  Morning  Glories. —  Its 
History. — A  more  excellent  Way. — Home  again. 

Let  me  have  Turner's  pencil  for  a  moment.  How  your  black 
and  white  would  burn  !  On  this  rock,  high  and  lifted  up,  come 
and  sit.  You  are  panting  from  the  long  pull  and  the  steep  pull 
up  the  gorge  ;  but  you  forget  it  all  in  the  landscape,  near  and  re- 
mote, that  lies  under  your  eye.  It  is  torrid  and  temperate  at  a 
glance.  Could  we  see  round  that  lofty  point,  we  could  add  and 
frigid  also ;  for  there  sit  the  snow  peaks  that  bring  the  north 
pole  to  the  equator.  But  these  apart,  the  scene  is  one  of  exquisite 
beauty  and  grandeur.  The  gorge  beneath  us  is  lined  on  both  sides 
with  munificent  pines,  firs,  and  hemlocks;  not  stinted  and  spin- 
dled, as  they  are  on  our  northern  hills,  nor  clipped  and  shaven, 
but  in  all  their  original,  untrimmed,  uncut  magnificence.  In  the 
midst  of  them  sits  a  castle-like  ruin,  such  as  the  Rhine  seldom  af- 
fords, England  seldomer,  and  other  lands  never.  Its  gray  walls, 
thick  and  high,  its  several  domes  and  turrets,  its  archways  and  en- 
trances are  of  the  best  Rhine  quality.  It  is  on  a  cleared  point 
that  is  well  above  the  bottom  of  the  valley  and  yet  well  below  our 
towering  observatory.  It  is  a  reminiscence  of  feudal  times  in 
looks  and  situation,  and  one  could  easily  transfer  himself  almost 
three  hundred  years  backward,  when  its  foundations  were  laid. 

It  is  not  a  castle,  though  very  like  a  castle  ;  but  a  convent,  built 
in  1606,  the  year  before  the  first  permanent  English  colony  was 
planted  on  this  continent,  and  quite  a  while  before  the  English  col- 


PISTOL   PRACTICE. 


^°5 


ony  was  planted  on  a  rock  —  the  colony  that  has  colonized  the 
whole  continent  clown  to  Mexico,  and  will  yet  colonize  that  and  all 
south  of  it. 

This  elaborate  building  was  then  erected  in  a  country  that  for 
eighty-five  years,  nearly  a  century,  had  been  under  European  sway, 
culture,  and  religion.  So  the  Pilgrim  Rock  must  abase  its  head 
before  the  rock-built  walls  of  El  Desierto.  I  would  like  to  see  it 
lowering  its  crest  before  any  thing. 

Beyond  this  grand  forest  and  its  romantic  ruin  lie  the  plains  of 

Mexico.     The  sun  blazes  over  them,  making  it  all  a  lake  of  golden 

mist,  out  of  which  rises  many  a  bold  and  brown  sierra,  that  at  our 

height  and  in  this  radiance  looks  neither  bold  nor  brown.     For 

forty  or  sixty  miles  this  open  landscape  stretches.     A  matter  of 

twenty  miles  is  of  no  consequence  in  this  country,  so  clear  is  the 

atmosphere.     Emerson's  "  Brahma  "  is  here  fulfilled  in  one  of  its 

lines, 

"  Far  and  remote  to  me  are  near." 

The  basin  is  of  treeless  land,  salt-rnarsh,  irrigated  meadow,  and 
shallow  lake,  with  knobs  of  hills  embossed  upon  it.  Just  round 
the  corner  of  that  neighboring  point  of  pines,  to  our  right,  lies  the 
central  spot  of  the  park — not  a  rude  upheaval  of  mountains,  but  a 
fair  city,  with  its  towers  and  domes  and  roofs  flashing  in  the  set- 
ting sun.  We  saw  it  often  in  our  ascent  hither.  It  is  a  city  that 
perhaps  best  of  all  on  earth  fulfills  Tennyson's  description, 

"  Sown  in  the  centre  of  a  monstrous  plain, 
The  city  glitters  like  a  grain  of  salt." 

The  monstrous  plain  and  the  dazzling  sunshine  envelop  this  town, 
and  make  it  blaze  like  a  diamond  amidst  diamonds. 

This  writing,  begun  at  sunset  on  the  mountain-top,  is  being  con- 
tinued before  the  convent  walls,  not  long  after  sunrise.  The  rest 
of  the  party,  gentlemen  and  gentlewomen,  are  practicing  their  pis- 
tols on  the  walls.  Small  success  have  most  ;  but  one,  the  guide 
and  guardian  of  the  band,  puts  his  bullet  through  the  mark  every 
time.     I  content  myself  with  telling  Lessing's  fable  of  the  Jupiter 


2o6  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

and  Apollo  who  went  out  on  a  shooting-match.  Apollo  put  his 
arrow  through  the  centre  of  the  bull's-eye.  "  I  could  beat  that  if 
1  had  a  mind  to  try,"  says  Jupiter,  and  stalks  haughtily  home. 
Many  a  critic  of  shooting  guns  and  ideas  is  equally  contemptuous, 
critical,  and  careful,  and  so  maintains  a  reputation  that  one  shot  or 
one  book  of  his  own  would  utterly  destroy.  "Critics  are  men  that 
have  failed,"  says  the  sarcastic  Disraeli,  in  "Lothair."  They  would 
fail  if  they  tried.  This  Jupiter  critic  of  sharp  shots  did  try,  foolish- 
ly, and  landed  his  ball  way  up  the  side  of  the  wall.  Content,  he 
retreats  to  his  mossy  seat  by  the  side  of  the  fountain,  and  resumes 
his  pen  and  his  true  vocation. 

How  would  I  love  to  sit  for  hours  and  days  on  the  stone  fount- 
ain where  this  is  being  written,  and  under  the  grand  cypresses  that 
tower  above  me  with  less  spreading  branches  than  their  twin  hem- 
lock of  New  England,  or  on  the  broad  parapet  that  makes  a  low 
wall  for  the  front  of  the  cloister.  "The  sound  of  the  going  in  the 
tops  "  of  the  pines  and  hemlocks,  which  David  heard  in  the  tops 
of  the  mulberry-trees,  comes  solemnly  on  the  ear,  the  same  sad 
wail  that  they  have  given  forth  to  the  like  mortal  ear  since  first 
these  forests  were  pierced  and  these  walls  arose. 

How  sad  are  the  voices  of  Nature.  The  moan  of  the  forest  and 
of  the  ocean  have  often  been  noticed.  Was  that  part  of  the  note 
of  lamentation  sent  forth  from  Nature  when  man  fell — that  groan- 
ing after  restoration  which  she  and  all  that  her  inhabits  still  unut- 
terably utter?  Why  should  they  not  be  pleasant  sounds,  full  of 
music  and  mirth  too?  Why  should  they  not  laugh  for  joy?  The 
hills  skipped  for  gladness  when  their  Lord  came.  So  may  the 
whispering  of  forests  be  yet  full  of  joyousness.  When  the  earth  is 
redeemed,  and  man  is  all  holy  and  all  happy  within  and  without, 
the  trees  shall  clap  their  hands,  and  every  flower  smile  audibly  its 
fragrant  bliss.  Could  vou  mix  senses  better  than  in  that  sentence, 
Mr.  Critic?  Mrs.  Browning  is  an  authority  for  part  of  it;  for  does 
not  she  say  of  the  angels, 

"  I  ween  their  blessed  smile  is  heard?" 


PRESERVATION  OF  THE    WOODS.  2o-] 

These  woods,  I  fear,  will  never  see  the  leaf-clapping  clay ;  for  the 
Yankee  is  around,  and  a  forest  of  primeval  grandeur  affects  him 
precisely  as  a  company  of  first-class  negroes  used  to  affect  "  a  good 
old  Southern  gentleman,  all  of  the  olden  time."  Mr.  John  M.  Ma- 
son, Buchanan's  minister  to  France,  met  the  Haytien  minister  at  an 
imperial  levee.  As  he  carelessly  contemplated  his  ebon  equal,  in 
all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  ambassadorial  dignity,  he  was 
asked  what  he  thought  of  his  sable  associate.  "  I  think  he  would 
be  worth  eighteen  hundred  dollars  in  Richmond,"  was  his  prompt 
reply.  So  the  American  of  to-day  says,  when  he  sees  these  magnif- 
icent trees,  "I  think  they  would  cut  into  so  many  thousand  feet, 
and  be  worth  so  many  petty  dollars."  Let  us  enjoy  them  while 
we  may,  for  they  are  soon  to  vanish. 

Has  not  General  Palmer  and  his  troupe  of  engineers  been  up 
this  very  pass  exploring  for  a  route  from  Mexico  to  Toluca,  and  so 
to  the  Pacific?  The  railroad  is  coming,  and  these  trees  must  pre- 
pare to  go.  Only  one  thing  can  save  them  —  a  camp  -  meeting. 
Maximilian  tried  to  buy  them,  and  could  not,  though  he  offered 
eighty  thousand  dollars  for  the  place.  The  Methodists  may  get  a 
few  hundred  of  the  acres  by  the  grace  of  General  Rosecrans,  in- 
cluding, I  trust,  the  old  convent,  and  so  preserve  a  bit  of  this 
grand  picture  for  future  generations.  They  are  about  the  only 
conservators  of  our  forests.  Their  presence  is  timely  here.  With 
the  railroad  that  comes  to  level  these  original  woods  let  the  Church 
come  to  save  a  portion  thereof  from  devastation. 

It  is  well  located,  too,  for  such  a  service.  Less  than  twenty 
miles  from  the  capital,  easily  accessible  by  the  multitudes,  we  may 
yet  hear  the  voice  of  prayer  and  praise  ascending  in  its  newer  and 
better  forms  from  these  most  venerable  cloisters  and  forests. 

Let  me  tell  you  a  little  more  fully  our  visit  to  each  of  these 
choicenesses.  Taking  to  horse,  we  cantered  merrily  through  the 
silent  streets  of  the  city  at  six  o'clock  of  the  morning  of  Tuesday, 
the  nth  of  February.  No  shawl  or  overcoat  burdened  our  shoul- 
ders or  stifled  the  breathing.  A  summer  morning,  soft  as  July,  it 
was.     Just  as  we  were  pacing  through  the  Alameda,  and  had  en- 


,o8  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

tered  the  paseo,  or  fashionable  drive,  the  sun  met  us,  and  smiled  re- 
sponsive to  our  smile.  The  road  ran  along  the  arches  of  the  aque- 
duct, looking  very  Roman,  and  hiding  under  them  robbers,  who  not 
unfrequently  here  waylay  coach  and  horseman,  which  is  very  Ro- 
man also. 

A  half-hour,  and  we  pace  along  the  base  of  Chapultepec,  stand- 
ing high  above  the  aboriginal  pines  and  cypresses  that  skirt  its 
base  and  climb  its  steep  sides.  Tacubaya  is  next  passed,  a  pretty 
suburb,  with  superb  parks  and  groun  Is  of  Mexican  millionaires. 
Here,  a  few  Saturday  nights  ago,  one  of  these  chiefs,  Senor  Escan- 
dron,  gave  a.  fete  champetre  to  nine  hundred  persons,  at  an  expense, 
it  was  said,  of  forty  thousand  dollars.  Dancing  and  drinking  were 
the  chief  amusements  of  the  Sabbath-breaking  hour  and  its  pre- 
liminary preparation ;  gambling  and  gorging  were  the  interludes. 
These  grand  pavilions  and  gardens  are  so  infested  with  robbers 
that  none  of  these  gentry  dare  spend  a  night  here  except  they  are 
strongly  guarded.  So  safe  is  this  country  in  a  large  village  not 
four  miles  from  the  palace  of  the  President ! 

Now  comes  a  long  pull  of  a  dozen  miles  up  a  broad  and  dusty 
road,  amidst  mules  and  men  equally  heavy-laden  and  equally  sad- 
faced — mules  often  diminishing  into  donkeys,  and  men  into  boys. 
The  human  beasts  of  burden  carry  on  their  backs  huge  crates  fill- 
ed with  earthenware  and  other  commodities,  weighing,  one  would 
guess,  several  hundred  pounds.  These  are  held  to  their  backs  by 
a  broad  strap  going  over  the  forehead,  and  the  hair  is  left  thick, 
and  made  to  grow  thicker  over  the  eyes,  in  order  to  make  a  mat- 
ting for  this  strap.  I  have  seen  stones  and  bricks  so  carried  that 
weighed,  I  was  told,  four  hundred  pounds.  Their  heads  bow  to 
the  burden,  and  they  trot  along  under  their  huge  loads  as  fast  as  a 
horse  can  walk. 

The  road  ascends  the  spurs  of  the  Toluca  range  ;  through  San- 
ta Fe,  a  string  of  adobe  huts  ;  through  Contadera,  where  a  body 
of  troops  are  stationed  that  eye  us  soldierly,  that  is,  quietly  and 
searchingly  ;  and  at  last  leaves  us  at  the  venta  of  Guajimalpa,  a 
wayside  station  for  changing  mules  on  the  stage  to  Toluca. 


AN.    UNSURPASSED   COMBINATION. 


209 


Here  we  turn  off  the  dusty  highway  and  climb  a  smooth,  open, 
steep  hill.  The  water  rattles  gayly  clown  a  brisk  stream,  which  a 
mile  or  two  back  we  had  turned  aside  into  a  pasture  path  to  en- 
joy. The  smooth  upland  soon  becomes  rougher  and  more  wooded, 
and  after  a  mile  or  more  we  enter  a  cleft  in  a  smooth-faced  wall 
of  a  venerable  look,  and  are  in  the  grounds  of  the  Convent  of  El 
Desierto. 

The  woods  grow  thicker  in  numbers  and  in  size.  No  needy 
knife-cutter  has  been  allowed  to  ply  his  trade  in  this  sacred  in- 
closure.  For  two  hundred  and  sixty-nine  years  they  have  been  let 
alone.  Only  the  path,  of  a  single  horseback  width,  has  been  cut 
through  them.  This  path  winds  along  the  sides  of  lofty  hills  and 
deep  ravines,  densely  shaded,  now  climbing,  now  declining,  for  a 
mile  and  a  half;  then,  winding  up  a  steep  acclivity,  it  emerges 
upon  the  open  space  on  which  the  convent  stands. 

One  notices  in  this  location  the  same  taste  that  governed  the 
abbots  of  England  and  Europe.  They  always  chose  the  most 
beautiful  spots  for  their  retreats.  They  had  an  eye  to  the  beauty 
of  nature,  all  the  keener,  perhaps,  because  they  were  forbidden  to 
look  upon  all  other  beauty.  They  knew  how  to  make  a  wilderness 
blossom  like  the  rose,  but  they  selected  the  wilderness  most  sus- 
ceptible of  such  blossoming.  This  rare  combination  is  one  of  the 
best.  Few  ever  equaled  ;  none,  we  believe,  surpassed  it.  Their 
whole  area  was  nine  leagues  square — three  miles  in  each  direction  ; 
and  all  encompassed  with  a  choice  brick  wall,  that  still  survives  in 
large  part  and  perfect  form. 

The  clearing  is  narrow,  woods  hugging  the  buildings  closely  on 
either  side,  removed  not  a  hundred  feet  in  the  rear,  but  opening  on 
the  front  to  the  breadth  of  a  single  pasture  lot,  a  slope  of  five  or 
ten  acres. 

Was  ever  solitude  more  solitary  ?  In  this  bright,  warm  morning 
not  a  creature  is  stirring  except  the  visitors  and  visited.  Not  a 
bird  or  insect,  or  man  or  beast.  In  fact,  I  only  saw  one  insect  in 
all  the  woods  and  walks,  and  that  was  a  wasp,  that  had  fallen  on 
the  ground,  and  fluttered  and  fainted  from  sheer  loneliness.     The 


210  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

birds  were  alike  absent.  A  black  hawk  sailing  over  the  black 
wasp  was  the  only  representative  of  that  tribe,  except  the  cock  and 
hens  of  the  court-yard. 

How  near  akin  seem  our  very  dogs  and  horses  in  the  dense  lone- 
liness. One  easily  detects  in  these  favorites  of  man  a  yet  closer 
affinity,  and  wonders  why,  when  horses  are  admitted  to  the  revela- 
tor's  heaven,  dogs  are  excluded.  They  must  be  the  ugly  clogs  of 
Eastern  countries,  and  not  their  developed  associates  of  Christian 
men.  No  animal  seems  to  have  acquired  so  much  from  the  Gos- 
pel as  the  dog.  Every  other  creature  seems  unchanged  in  nature 
in  every  estate  of  man.  The  ancient  horse  was  as  proud  and  pet- 
ted a  beast  as  the  modern.  The  cat,  as  my  Spanish  phrase-book 
teaches,  is  false  to-day,  and  has  never  improved  in  heart  or  head  ; 
but  this  companion  of  man  in  his  degradation,  which'  always  clings 
to  him  how  low  soever  he  plunges,  seems  also  to  arise  with  him, 
and  in  its  sagacity,  fidelity,  and  courage  almost  gives  warrant  of  its 
possible  immortality.  Since  Mr.  Emerson  allows  that  only  about 
one  man  is  born  in  five  hundred  years  who  is  worthy  of  immortali- 
ty, perhaps  that  rare  example  of  the  possibilities  of  our  race  may 
find  as  his  chosen  companion  the  alike  fortunate  representative  of 
the  canine  race,  and  of  that  dog  and  that  man  the  distich  may 
prove  true  : 

"Admitted  to  that  equal  sky, 
His  faithful  dog  will  bear  him  company." 

The  convent  gate  stands  open,  and  we  gladly  enter  the  deserted 
Desierto.  A  stream  of  coldest  water  leaps  out  of  the  face  of  the 
high  terrace  before  the  entrance,  and  gives  us  that  best  of  drinks, 
which  man's  perverted  appetite  is  so  constantly  rejecting  for  mud- 
dy and  heavy  beers  and  ales,  and  sour,  sharp  wines,  and  hot  bran- 
dies and  whiskies.  It  is  one  of  the  greatest  proofs  of  his  depravi- 
ty, this  plunging  into  false  and  fatal  beverages.  How  great  the 
work  to  be  done  in  this  country  in  rescuing  poor  and  rich  from 
these  drunken  abominations  !     And  not  this  country  only. 

The  buildings  covered  not  less  than  ten  acres.  There  were 
three  large  open  courts,  or  cloisters,  surrounded  with  arcades,  a 


THE  MASS  AN  IDOLATRY.  21 1 

half-dozen  long  aisles,  narrow  and  low- arched,  out  of  which  the 
cells  of  the  monks  open,  and  other  apartments.  Each  cell  had  a 
private  court  of  its  own,  open  to  the  sky,  but  closed  by  high  walls 
from  all  outward  observation. 

There  were  a  multitude  of  smaller  courts,  three  or  four  chapels 
or  oratories,  besides  the  church,  and  two  large  inclosures  of  several 
acres,  which  were  possibly  its  gardens  and  possibly  a  portion  of  its 
approaches.  The  chief  church  was  used  for  several  years  as  a 
glass  factory,  and  a  huge  furnace  built  under  the  dome  and  black- 
ened walls  still  attest  its  change  of  use.  It  reminded  one  of  the 
hero  of  "  Put  Yourself  in  his  Place,"  who  used  an  abandoned 
church  as  his  furnace  for  the  making  of  his  tools,  and  thus  made 
the  ghosts  useful  in  protecting  his  rights  against  opposing  trades- 
unions  and  his  high  Tory  uncle.  So  even  the  fertile  genius  of 
Charles  Reade  finds  his  fiction  lagging  behind  this  fact ;  and  thus 
there  is  nothing  new,  not  only  under  the  sun,  but  even  in  the  realm 
of  the  imagination.  It  did  seem  a  little  out  of  place,  this  glass-fur- 
nace where  the  altar  stood  ;  but  the  idolatry  of  the  mass  deserved 
perhaps  this  desecration,  as  Palestine  had  to  be  trodden  under  foot 
of  the  Gentiles  because  its  chosen  people  had  themselves  trodden 
under  foot  the  Son  of  God,  an  identity  of  words  which  the  Holy 
Spirit  expressly  uses,  with  that  verbal  exactness  which  He  always 
employs,  in  order  to  set  forth  the  righteousness  of  that  banishment 
and  punishment  which  has  continued  now  over  eighteen  centuries. 

The  mass  is  still  an  idolatry,  worse  than  any  the  Jews  fell  into  ; 
and  this  desecration  is  but  a  type  of  many  that  have  preceded  it, 
and  more  that  shall  follow,  until  the  true  worship  shall  not  be-  a 
repetition  of  an  accomplished  and,  therefore,  now  idolatrous  sacri- 
fice, but  a  setting  home  of  this  sacrifice  divine,  with  faith  and  prayer 
and  earnest  exhortation  and  conclusive  reasoning,  to  the  hearts 
and  lives  of  the  hearer  and  believer. 

Outside  this  church  is  a  spacious  patio,  or  court,  once  surrounded 
by  broad  arches  and  shaded  walks,  only  an  arch  or  two  of  which 
remain.  Go  to  the  outer  edge  of  it  and  wind  down  a  narrow  stair- 
way, and  you  enter  an  under -ground  series  of  cloisters,  the  size 


212  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

of  the  arched  wall  above — a  dark,  low,  fearful  range  of  dungeons, 
which  not  a  ray  could  penetrate.  Out  of  it  opens  at  one  corner  a 
chapel  of  flagellation,  perhaps  of  inquisitorial  judgment,  for  tradi- 
tion hath  it  that  this  convent  was  for  many  years  the  seat  of  the 
Inquisition,  and  that  it  was  removed  hence  to  the  Dominican  con- 
vent in  the  city.  But  this  is  denied  by  others,  who  declare  that 
the  Carmelites,  by  whom  it  was  built,  never  had  charge  of  the  In- 
quisition ;  and  that  this,  therefore,  could  not  have  had  any  thing  to 
do  with  those  persecutions.  It  is  replied,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
when  the  Carmelites  abandoned  this  spot  for  one  more  retired,  at 
a  greater  distance  from  the  city,  the  Dominicans  occupied  it,  and 
perverted  it  to  their  cruel  purpose.  I  hope  not,  for  I  should  hate 
to  think  so  fair  and  so  secluded  a  retreat  could  have  been  made 
hideous  with  that  horror.  Yet  these  doleful  arches  look  as  if  made 
for  such  purposes,  and  one  shudders  as  he  creeps  through  them, 
and  fancies  he  sees  his  Christian  brethren,  two  hundred  years  ago, 
chained  to  these  walls  and  sitting  in  thick  darkness,  on  their  way 
to  the  rack  and  the  fagot  and  glory. 

We  emerge  gladly,  and  take  to  the  outer  garden,  where  an  ora- 
tory, inclosed  on  three  sides  and  open  to  the  western  sun,  gives  a 
charming  view  of  the  grand  mountains  and  grander  forests.  It  has 
such  echoing  qualities  that  one  whispering  in  a  corner,  with  his  face 
close  to  the  wall,  is  distinctly  and  loudly  heard  by  one  in  the  diag- 
onal corner,  though  no  others  in  the  room  can  hear  even  the  sound 
of  the  whisper.  Thus  two  gentlemen  at  opposite  corners  and  two 
ladies  talked  each  to  each,  and  no  one  heard  a  sound  except  that 
whispered  by  their  own  opposite.  It  has  singing  qualities  as  well, 
and  as  the  quartette  of  voices  joined  in  national  and  religious  mel- 
odies, one  could  but  exclaim,  with  a  slight  variation, 

"  O  listen  !  for  the  vale  profound 
Is  overflowing  with  the  sound  !" 

It  seemed  as  if  this  bowl  of  stone  bowled  out  the  melody  (do  not 
read  that  bawled),  and  echoed  in  every  rocky  fibre  to  the  exultant 
harmony.     With  what  gusto  did  it  sing  the  John  Brown  song  (it 


ASSUMED   VIVACITY.  213 

seemed  as  though  that  had  never  been  sung  before),  and  "  The  Star- 
spangled  Banner,"  and  "  Blow  ye  the  Trumpet,  blow  !"  and  tender- 
er airs,  such  as  "Tenting  on  the  Old  Camp-ground,"  and  "A  Charge 
to  keep  I  have."  They  all  melted  together,  and  we  agreed  that 
when  the  coming  camp -meeting  is  held  in  these  old  woods,  this 
chapel  in  the  garden  will  be  a  choice  resort  for  the  happy  minstrels 
of  those  happy  convocations. 

The  choicest  walk,  after  all,  is  by  moonlight.     It  is  familiar  to 

say, 

"  If  you  would  see  Melrose  aright, 

Go  visit  it  by  pale  moonlight." 

This  far  larger  and  costlier  abbey,  and  situated  more  romantical- 
ly, deserves  like  visitation.  The  flood  of  silver  raining  from  that 
mine  in  the  sky — an  appropriate  figure  for  this  silver  country — 
poured  over  all  the  patios  and  azateas,  or  flat  roofs,  on  the  porce- 
lain-tiled domes,  into  the  gardens,  everywhere  but  into  the  still 
roofed  corridors  and  shut  cells.  They  looked  all  the  blacker  and 
more  fearful  for  the  contrast.  We  climb  to  the  belfry,  and  let  the 
sound  of  our  own  music  creep  into  our  ears,  while  we  also  send 
out  over  the  valleys  and  woodlands  a  cheerful  summons  to  the  rob- 
ber serenaders,  that  may  make  us  sing  another  song  before  morn- 
ing. We  sit  on  the  flat  roofs,  with  their  slightly  raised  battlements, 
and  continue  our  talk  and  song  till  the  hour  grows  late,  and  the  air 
slightly  chill,  for  this  is  nine  thousand  feet  above  New  York,  and 
the  midnight  February  air  is  not  quite  as  warm  as  her  midnight 
air  of  August. 

All  this  vivacity  was  assumed.  We  may  as  well  own  it :  we 
were  really  scared.  The  gentleman  who  conducted  us,  of  un- 
doubted personal  courage,  felt  some  fears  for  the  ladies  in  his  care. 
Of  the  two  men  with  him,  one  made  no  pretense  as  a  marksman, 
and  had  not  even  put  a  revolver  in  his  belt.  We  prepare  for  the 
night  by  barring  heavily  the  outer  door  of  the  ruin  and  inner  doors 
of  our  apartments,  as  well  as  the  shutters  to  their  classless  windows. 
A  fire  is  burning  on  the  unused  hearth,  whose  light  is  companion- 
able and  comforting.     The  ladies  lie  undressed  on  a  couch  before 


214 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


the  fire,  and  the  gentlemen  occasionally  on  mattresses;  for  the 
chieftain  is  out  most  of  the  night  patroling  the  walks,  and  his  as- 
sociates frequently  creep  around  behind  him.  Every  sound  is 
caught  by  exceedingly  erect  ears,  and  many  never  made  are  dis- 
tinctly heard,  the  spirit  within  hearing  in  the  outward  ear: 

"  The  airy  tongues  that  syllable  men's  names, 
On  sands,  and  shores,  and  desert  wildernesses." 

This  desert  wilderness  is  profuse  in  such  vocalizations.  A  couple 
of  charcoal-burners,  perhaps  from  the  mountains,  grazed  our  gate, 
and  came  near  being  grazed  by  our  balls.  A  whispering  breeze 
in  the  tree -tops  seemed  to  be  the  low  orders  of  the  assailing 
forces.  A  horse,  if  such  there  be,  wandering  loose  on  these  hill- 
sides, if  not  a  ghostly  horse,  sounded  like  the  tramp  of  steeds  rush- 
ing down  upon  us.  The  very  breathing  of  the  dog,  who  murmured 
in  his  sleep,  was  taken  as  an  omen  of  alarm.  So,  with  fits  of  fee- 
ble slumber  and  interludes  of  long  waking,  with  wanderings  about 
the  ruins  by  moonlight,  stealthily  seeking  a  stealthy  foe,  we  man- 
aged to  get  through  the  night ;  and  the  morning  finds  us,  oh,  so 
courageous  !  Who's  afraid  ?  Who  cares  for  the  beggars  of  Santa 
Rosa,  or  Guajimalpa,  and  other  unpronounceable  towns  about  us? 
Let  them  come  by  the  legion.  Our  four  revolvers  and  one  carbine 
are  equal  to  them  all. 

Yet  we  had  reason  to  fear,  for  the  master  of  the  first  village  be- 
low had  warned  us  of  the  danger,  and  the  administrador  of  the 
place  declared  it  not  improbable  that  we  should  be  visited.  These 
villages  harbor  hordes  of  robbers,  and  we  were  well  studied  by 
their  sidewalk  committees  as  we  passed  through  them.  The  two 
men  who  passed  our  gate  at  ten  of  the  night,  and  even  tried  it, 
were  perhaps  a  part  of  a  gang,  rather  than  charcoal-burners,  who, 
seeing  through  two  eyelet-holes  one  of  the  party  with  his  carbine, 
gave  such  a  report  as  dissuaded  others  from  returning  with  them 
to  receive  our  hospitality.  Others  reported,  after  we  got  back,  that 
the  country  round  considered  the  deed  most  perilous,  and  won- 
dered at  our  escape.     Perhaps  our  audacity  or  indifference  was, 


A   SUBJECT  FOR    THE   CANVAS.  215 

after  all,  our  safety.     Undoubtedly,  we  did  risk  something  in  coming 
hither,  and  once  and  again  half  regretted  our  temerity.    But  it  paid. 

We  take  another  climb  in  the  morning  to  another  summit — 
a  two-hours-and-thirty-minutes'  tramp,  very  different  from  the  two- 
thirty  of  the  racer.  But  the  result  was  different ;  for  we  gained 
health  and  appetite,  and  a  glorious  prospect  in  our  two-thirty  toil 
up  the  face  of  the  mountain.  Before  us  and  far  beneath  lay  the 
high,  uplifted  plains  of  Anahuac,  with  the  city  on  its  breast,  a  daz- 
zling diamond.  The  two  snow-peaks  blazed  more  brightly  than 
the  city  they  inclose  ;  and  all  the  valley,  its  lakes,  meadows,  and 
mountains,  cities  and  hamlets,  burned  in  the  torrid  flame.  A  slight 
smoke,  the  first  I  have  seen,  left  some  of  the  remoter  ranges  less 
distinct.  Yet  the  Sierra  of  Real  del  Monte,  eighty  miles  away,  was 
not  afar  off,  and  more  distant  ranges  girt  the  horizon.  Below  us 
the  cleared  knolls  were  patched  off  into  pastures  by  hedges  of 
maguey,  whose  dark,  broad  leaves,  even  at  this  height,  were  visibly 
glossy  and  green. 

It  was  less  recherche  than  the  one  the  night  previous.  The  con- 
vent was  not  the  centre  of  the  scene,  nor  the  woods  the  circumfer- 
ence. They  were  put  one  side,  as  the  city  had  been  in  that  pic- 
ture. I  prefer  the  seclusiveness  of  the  first ;  and,  if  I  were  rich, 
would  give  an  order  quickly  to  some  of  these  deft  artists,  of  whom 
Mexico  has  many,  to  put  that  beauty  on  the  canvas.  The  Falls 
of  Atoyac,  on  the  mountain  rim  of  the  Sierra  Caliente,  and  the  Con- 
vent of  El  Desierto  are  the  true  perfections  of  loveliness  so  far  be- 
held in  this  country  •  and  it  is  hard  to  say  which  of  the  two  is 
chief.  This  has  the  superiority  in  the  mingling  with  its  woods  and 
ravines,  man  and  history  and  the  Mexic  plain  ;  that,  in  its  dancing 
water-fall,  plunging  into  a  green  basin,  whose  walls  of  tropical  lux- 
uriance rise  two  thousand  feet  above  the  white  -  sprayed  bottom. 
Who  will  give  me  both  ?     The  greedy  spirit  cries,  who?    And  echo 

"  The  green  silence  doth  displace  " 

with  a  mocking  "who?" 

Desierto  has  never  had  its  desert  in  fame,  though  not  without  it. 


2i6  OUR  XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

It  was  a  great  resort  in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
within  fifty  years  after  the  first  stone  was  laid.  One  Thomas  Page, 
an  English  ecclesiastic,  visiting  it  then,  says:  "The  orchards  and 
gardens  were  full  of  fruits  and  flowers,  which  may  take  two  miles 
to  compass  ;  and  here  among  the  rocks  are  many  springs  of  water 
which,  with  the  shade  of  the  plantain  (or  banana)  and  other  trees, 
are  most  cool  and  pleasant  to  the  hermits.  They  have  also  the 
sweet  smell  of  the  rose  and  the  jasmine,  which  is  a  little  flower, 
but  the  sweetest  of  all  others ;  and  there  is  not  any  flower  to 
be  found  that  is  rare  and  exquisite  in  that  country  which  is  not 
in  that  wilderness,  to  delight  the  senses  of  those  mortified  her- 
mits." 

The  rose-bush  and  the  jasmine  remain  yet,  the  path  through 
the  garden  being  lined  with  the  former,  growing  as  tall  as  your 
head,  and  the  latter  clinging  to  the  crevices  of  the  walls  and  along 
the  ruined  battlements,  as  fragrant  and  as  pretty  in  its  pink  and 
checkered  blossoms  as  it  was  more  than  two  hundred  years  ago. 
The  garden  is  now  neglected,  but  could  easily  yield  all  tropical 
luxuries  in  this  frostless  air.  No  wonder  the  place  became  a  great 
attraction,  and  Desierto  was  the  fashion  for  Mexics.  "  It  i.s  won- 
derful," says  Priest  Thomas,  "  to  see  the  strange  devices  of  fount- 
ains of  water  which  are  about  the  gardens ;  but  much  more  won- 
derful to  see  the  resort  thither  of  coaches,  and  gallants  and  ladies, 
and  citizens  from  Mexico,  to  walk  and  make  merry  in  those  desert 
pleasures,  and  to  see  those  hypocrites,  whom  they  look  upon  as  liv- 
ing saints,  and  so  think  nothing  too  good  for  them  to  cherish  them 
in  their  desert  conflicts  with  Satan."  Even  so  early  had  the  fruit 
of  sainthood  begun  to  ripe  and  rot.  Like  Martha's  Vineyard,  it 
had  ceased  to  be  so  much  a  spiritual  as  a  luxurious  resort.  Will 
the  camp-meeting  to  come  here  fall  into  like  condemnation  ? 

He  says  these  visitors  brought  presents,  and  the  image  of  our 
Lady  of  Carmel  had  treasures  of  diamonds,  pearls,  golden  chains, 
and  crowns,  and  gowns  of  cloth  of  gold  and  silver.  "  Before  this 
picture  did  hang  in  my  time  twenty  lamps  of  silver,  the  poorest  of 
them  being  worth  a  hundred  pounds."     Quaintly  and  profitably  he 


WANDERING  IN  VACANT  CELLS. 


17 


adds,  "Truly,  Satan  hath  given  them  what  he  offered  unto  Christ 
in  the  desert.  All  the  dainties  and  all  the  riches  of  America  hath 
he  given  unto  them  in  that  desert  because  they  daily  fall  down  and 
worship  him."  Is  it  so  yet?  Doth  wilderness  temptation  supplant 
wilderness  faith?  Then  will  like  desolations  follow  that  have  fol- 
lowed here,  and  in  all  the  famous  abbeys  of  the  world,  even  the 
wasting  of  their  treasures  and  the  ruin  of  their  palaces.  Those 
twenty  lamps,  of  ten  thousand  dollars'  value  and  upward,  where 
now?  And  the  treasures,  and  gifts,  and  luxuries,  and  soliciting  of 
prayers  and  masses,  where  are  they  ? 

The  monks  became  aware  of  the  perils  this  popularity  was 
bringing,  and  withdrew  to  a  remoter  seclusion,  farther  up  the 
mountain.  Even  there  their  mission  failed,  and  the  head  of  this 
convent  was  one  of  the  first  of  those  who  rejected  Romanism ; 
though  he  has  since  returned  to  his  old  vows,  not,  I  trust,  to  abide 
therein. 

As  we  wander  about  these  vacant  cells  and  close-walled  paths 
we  fall  into  sympathy  with  their  vanished  life,  and  repeat  with  too 
much  inward  approval  Southey's  lines  : 

"  I  envy  them,  those  monks  of  oid, 
The  books  they  read,  the  beads  they  told, 
To  earthly  feelings  dead  and  cold, 
And  all  humanity." 

Yet  there  was  not  much  of  mortification  or  of  reading,  as  we  have 
seen.  Little  as  there  was,  however,  it  probably  surpassed  that  of 
the  surrounding  people.  They  kept  alive  what  little  literature  did 
exist,  and  performed  most  of  the  penances  that  were  inflicted.  So 
we  come  back  to  this  present,  and  say  : 

"  Yet  still,  for  all  their  faith  could  see, 
I  would  not  these  cowled  churchmen  be." 

Or,  with  piety  and  poetry  surpassing  Emerson,  should  we  say,  with 
Wesley  : 

"Not  in  the  tombs  we  pine  to  dwell, 
Not  in  the  dark  monastic  cell, 
'5 


218  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

By  vows  and  grates  confined  ; 
Freely  to  all  ourselves  we  give, 
Constrained  by  Jesus's  love  to  live 

The  servants  of  mankind." 

It  is  not  in  this  hidden  and  idle  manner  that  one  must  serve  his 
generation  ;  but  in  earnest  efforts  to  bring  all  souls  out  of  sin,  ig- 
norance, evil  habit,  and  all  degradation.  These  monks  of  Mount 
Carmel  fared  sumptuously  or  sparingly;  but  the  peon  still  bowed 
his  head  to  his  burden,  and  the  Spaniard  still  robbed  and  murder- 
ed. Better  far  less  introspection  and  more  outward  action.  Thus 
only  will  the  world  come  nearer  Christ  and  heaven. 

We  left  regretfully  the  ancient  pile  and  its  more  ancient  sur- 
roundings. At  half-past  three  that  torrid  winter  afternoon  our  last 
picnic  meal  was  shared  by  no  less  than  four  dogs,  who  ate  the 
crumbs  under  the  table,  and  even  the  meats  off  of  it.  They  were 
worth  eating,  as  I  can  testify.  An  English  gentleman  purveyed 
and  a  good  English  cook  prepared  the  store  which  thus  evanished 
at  last  from  under  the  table. 

We  rode  through  the  cool,  rich. forest,  and  out  into  the  blaze, 
which  burned  our  backs  and  necks  as  if  it  came  through  a  burn- 
ing-glass. There  were  the  same  burdened  mules  and  men,  don- 
keys and  boys,  the  same  lounging  soldiers,  the  same  sad-eyed  wom- 
en ;  one  group  alone  merry  with  laughter,  as  they  chased  a  rat 
among  their  ragged  huts.  The  sun  drove  the  long  shadows  over 
the  plains,  disappeared  in  a  crater  of  fire,  that  shot  up  flames  from 
its  black  bowl,  while  Iztaccihuatl  and  Popocatepetl  glowed  rosily 
long  after  valley  and  hill-top  were  in  shadow  and  slumber.  The 
moon  arose,  and  our  spirits  with  her,  for  it  grew  perilous  even  on 
the  highway  as  it  grew  dark,  and  we  paced  chattingly  along  the 
Empress  Road  from  Chapultepec,  taking  a  moonlight  ride,  that 
rarest  and  riskiest  of  pleasure  jaunts  in  Mexico.  It  is  too  bad 
that  to  the  very  centre  of  the  city  there  is  no  protection  against 
robbery.  We  escaped,  and  entered  our  courts  in  four  hours  after 
we  left  that  of  the  convent,  tired  and  delighted  with  the  ride,  the 
fright,  the  tramp,  the  ruin,  the  whole  of  El  Desiei  to. 


EQUIPMENTS  FOR  RIDING.  2U) 


X. 

A  RIDE  ABOUT  TOWN. 

The  Horse  and  its  Rider. — Paseos. — Empress's  Drive. — A  Relic  of  Waterloo. 
— The  Tree  of  Montezuma. — The  Woods. — View  of  Chapultepec. — Baths  of 
Montezuma. — Tacubaya  Gardens. — The  Penyan. — Canal. — Floating  Gardens. 
— Gautemozin. — The  Cafe. 

This  country  is  made  for  the  horse,  and  the  horse  for  the  coun- 
try. He  paces  and  canters  deliciously,  and  the  air  and  the  clime 
fit  perfectly  to  his  gait.  Horseback  in  England  and  the  States  is 
a  luxury  pursued  under  difficulties.  The  first  difficulty  is  in  the 
horse,  which  is  seldom  trained  to  such  service ;  and  the  second 
and  worse  one  is  in  the  weather,  which  is  not  sufficiently  uniform 
to  make  the  luxury  a  permanency.  Here  every  morning  is  perfect, 
and  about  every  horse.  The  saddle,  too,  is  made  for  riding ;  far 
superior  to  the  English  saddle,  it  holds  you  on,  and  does  not  make 
you  hold  yourself  on.  So  if  you  come  to  Mexico,  take  to  the  horse. 
Only  gentlemen,  however,  indulge  in  this  pastime,  and  very  hand- 
somely they  ride  :  straight  legs,  laced  with  silver  buttons,  broad 
hat  of  white  felt,  with  a  wide  silver  band  expanded  into  a  huge 
snake-like  swell  and  fold  ;  their  horses  often  gayly  caparisoned,  and 
delighting  evidently  in  their  lordly  service.  There  is  no  more 
characteristic  or  agreeable  sight  in  Mexico  than  these  riders ;  far 
more  agreeable  than  it  is  when  witnessed  a  few  miles  out  of  town, 
more  or  less,  and  the  graceful  horseman  politely  requests  of  you 
the  loan  of  your  watch,  wallet,  horse — if  you  have  one — and  some- 
times all  your  outer  apparel.  That  is  a  sight  not  unfrequently 
seen,  all  but  the  last,  close  to  the  city  gates.  Two  of  these  city 
riders  were  relieved  by  others  of  these  city  riders  of  horses  and 
purses,  our  last  Sabbath  night,  on  the  crowded  and  fashionable 
drive  of  the  town,  not  a  mile  from  the  Alameda. 


220  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

But  it  is  safe  to  take  these  rides  in  the  morning ;  and  American 
ladies,  with  the  bravery  of  their  blood,  are  willing  to  take  them 
also.  The  prettiest  ride  is  to  Chapultepec.  At  six  in  the  morn- 
ing is  the  hour.  A  cup  of  coffee,  hot  and  hot,  and  a  sweet  cracker 
are  the  inward  supports  against  the  jouncing  and  rocking.  The 
Alameda  is  pranced  past,  scowling  at  us  from  its  deep  thickets,  its 
very  smiles  changed  to  frowns  under  the  possibilities  of  its  con- 
tents, for  robbers  and  revolvers  may  suddenly  appear  from  out  its 
greennesses. 

The  paseos  open  at  its  upper  end,  broad,  straight,  and  handsome. 
Two  or  three  of  these  carriage  roads  come  together  here  about  a 
statue  of  a  Charles  of  Spain,  the  only  royal  effigy  allowed  to  re- 
main, probably  the  only  one  that  ever  entered  the  land.  The  de- 
cayed bull-fight  arena  stands  opposite  the  monument,  itself  a  rel- 
ic, like  the  effigy,  of  by-gone  institutions — by-gone  in  the  city,  but 
still  extant,  if  not  flourishing,  in  the  rural  capitals.  Two  of  these 
avenues  go  to  the  Castle  of  Chapultepec.  The  one  that  leads  di- 
rectly to  its  gates  was  built  by  Maximilian,  under  his  wife's  orders, 
and  is  now  called  the  "  Empress's  Drive,"  but  for  many  a  year  it 
was  known  as  "the  Mad-woman's  Drive."  It  is  straight  as  an  ar- 
row from  an  Aztec  bow,  lined  with  young  trees,  and  besprinkled 
half  the  way  to  the  castle.  It  is  the  favorite  thoroughfare  for  coach 
and  horseman,  though  these  dare  not  usually  go  over  half  its  length. 
That  is  why  it  is  wet  down  no  farther.  To  pass  that  bound  is  to 
become  possibly  the  prey  of  robbers,  so  bold  are  these  gentlemen 
of  the  road. 

We  canter  carelessly  on,  mindless  of  robbers  in  the  morning 
calm.  Do  you  see  that  little  old  man  who  trots  easily  along?  He 
was  the  author  of  the  fortunes  of  the  Rothschilds.  He  was  at  Wa- 
terloo in  their  employ  the  day  of  the  battle,  took  boat  before  the 
official  messengers,  and  bore  the  tidings  of  the  fall  of  Napoleon  to 
London,  to  his  masters.  They  instantly  bought  heavily  in  Europe- 
an government  stocks,  and  made  immense  fortunes  by  their  speedy 
rise.  It  is  odd  to  meet  this  representative  of  the  first  and  most 
successful  of  modern  private  expresses  trotting  his  nag,  in  his  su- 


PIC XI C  GROUNDS.  221 

per-eightieth  year,  on  this  drive,  made  by  a  creature  of  a  third  Na- 
poleon from  him  whom  he  supposed  on  that  day  to  be,  in  person 
and  in  family,  utterly  and  forever  overthrown  ;  and  that  creature  of 
his,  too,  a  daughter  of  a  king  that  succeeded  that  fallen  emperor, 
and  husband  of  an  archduke,  the  nephew  or  grand-nephew  of  his 
own  empress,  Maria  Theresa.  Certainly  history,  even  to-day,  has 
curious  combinations.  You  would  never  have  thought  that  such  a 
nugget  could  have  been  picked  up  on  this  far-off  road.  The  hill 
and  buildings  rise  majestically  before  you,  more  ancient  than  any 
other  like  fortress  and  palace  in  the  world.  It  was  a  seat  of  power 
before  the  Spaniards  entered  the  land.  It  is  a  solitary  hill,  apart 
from  all  others,  thrust  out  into  the  plain  like  a  nose  upon  the  face 
of  nature.  It  is  a  huge  rock,  whereon  the  waves  of  war  have  beat 
for  a  thousand  if  not  for  two  thousand  years, 

"  Tempest-buffeted,  glory-crowned." 

The  gate  is  reached.  A  high  wooden  slat-fence  keeps  out  the 
peon,  but  does  not  keep  in  the  view.  Soldiers  as  sentinels  stand 
at  its  gates.  The  road  winds  through  groves  of  ancient  woods  of 
Yosemite  style  in  nature  and  in  size.  Not  far  from  the  entrance 
rises  and  spreads  the  gigantic  tree  known  by  the  name  of  the  Tree 
of  Montezuma.  It  probably  oft  refreshed  him  before  he  dream- 
ed of  the  terrible  invasion  of  the  white-face  and  the  loss  of  his 
kingdom,  and  perhaps  witnessed  his  bewilderment  after  that  dread 
event.  It  is,  however,  silent  on  these  scenes,  unless  these  whisper- 
ing leaves  are  trying  to  tell  the  story. 

Farther  on  we  enter  a  large  grove  of  these  large  trees,  a  remnant 
of  the  vast  forests  of  such  that  once  overshadowed  the  land.  Here 
picnics  are  held  by  city  people,  who  forget  the  past  in  their  mo- 
mentarily happy  present. 

The  road  winds  up  the  hill,  past  two  Aztec  idols  hidden  in  the 
thick-leaved  bushes,  up  the  bare,  steep  sides  which  Scott's  men 
bloodily  mounted,  and  ends  in  a  garden  near  the  top.  Here  the 
passion-flower  hangs  along  the  walls,  and  a  multitude  of  less  hot- 
blooded  kindred  blossom  by  the  pathways.     Birds  as  brilliant  as 


OUR   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


THE  TREE  OF   MONTEZUMA. 


the  flowers  line  the  walls,  and  one  without  beauty  of  plumage  con- 
quers all  with  his  wonderful  beauty  of  song.  It  is  the  old  law  of 
compensation:  "IVon  omnia  omnes  possumus" —  "Every  body  can 
not  do  every  thing." 

The  suite  of  rooms  that  compose  the  castle  are  large,  and  com- 
mand a  magnificent  prospect.  The  city  lies  below,  amidst  green 
groves  and  gardens,  with  shining  drive-ways  and  spacious  fields  be- 
tween. The  hills  tower  grandly  beyond.  It  is  a  spectacle  worthy 
of  a  king  or  emperor,  or  president — the  worthiest  of  them  all.  No 
such  panorama  has  any  other  palace  in  the  world.  Windsor,  the 
next  most  beautiful,  is  tame  to  this.  Schdnbrunn,  Potsdam,  Fon- 
tainebleau,  and  all,  are  flat  and  cheap  to  this  rare  combination. 
But,  then,  one  is  apt  to  live  longer  in  those  palaces,  and  to  die 
a  more  natural  death,  if  one  death  is  more  natural  than  another, 


SEWARD  AXD  JUAREZ.  223 

and  that  makes  their  occupants  content  with  humbler  luxuries. 
From  Montezuma  to  Maximilian,  the  occupants  of  this  hill  palace 
have  many  of  them  made  a  violent  exit  from  their  troublous  hon- 
ors. .  Juarez  dared  not  stay  here  after  night-fall  without  a  large 
body-guard  ;  and  it  is  abandoned  to  occasional  state  breakfasts, 
the  heart  of  the  city  being  judged  a  safer  residence.  Maximilian 
enjoyed  the  retreat,  and  filled  the  palace  with  his  own  pictures  and 
the  imperial  symbols,  the  only  remnants  of  which  are  a  few  pitch- 
ers and  basins  with  his  monogram  upon  them.  This  is  pretty  near 
the  estate  to  which  the  first  and  imperial  Caesar  sunk.  If  his  clay 
was  utilized  to  a  chink  filling,  the  crown  of  Maximilian  turns  into 
this  clay  of  a  wash-basin. 

A  dining-hall  in  the  rear  of  the  front  rooms,  on  the  backbone 
of  the  hill — hog's  back  it  might  be  called  for  sharpness  and  rough- 
ness— opens  pleasantly  upon  both  northern  and  southern  views. 
Here  Juarez  gave  Seward  a  breakfast,  the  last  public  entertain- 
ment in  this  hall,  and  one  worthy  to  be  made,  the  saved  feting  his 
savior  ;  for  had  it  not  been  for  Mr.  Seward's  army  of  sixty  thou- 
sand  men  at  the  Rio  Grande,  under  General  Sherman,  and  his 
letter  to  M.  Drouhn  L'Huys,  requesting  his  master  to  gratify  the 
President  of  the  United  States  by  withdrawing  his  troops  from 
Mexico,  Juarez  would  have  still  been  at  Washington,  if  alive. 
Both  chiefs  died  in  a  few  months  after  that  breakfast ;  died  at 
scarcely  a  moment's  warning.  So  all  that  are  to  come  to  great- 
ness here  must  turn  to  dust,  as  all  have  turned.  Not  much  to 
choose  between  the  Spanish  blooded  prince  slain  by  an  Aztec, 
and  the  Aztec  slain  by  a  Spaniard.  Ecclesiastes  is  profitable 
reading  at  Chapultepec.  "  Vanitas vanitatum, omnia  vanitas."  Its 
woods  are  old,  its  rocks,  its  landscape,  its  mountains. 

"  Stars  abide — 
Shine  down  in  the  old  sea  : 
Old  are  the  shores  : 
But  where  are  the  old  men  ? 
1  who  have  seen  much, 
Sui  h  have  I  never  seen," 


224  OCR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

says  the  Earth-song,  in  Emerson.  But  Emerson  fails  to  see  why 
the  earth  sees  them  not,  why  the  conscious  lord  of  creation  is  its 
weakest  victim.  The  earth  has  seen  such.  A  thousand  years  was 
once  their  day.  But  only  a  clay  at  that.  Only  a  babe  was  Methu- 
sala  to  the  earth,  and  the  sea,  and  the  stars.  Ah,  sin,  sin,  what 
hast  thou  done  ! 

You  can  see  from  the  southern  windows  the  Molino  del  Rey, 
where  the  bloodiest  of  the  battles  of  General  Scott  was  waged.  It 
is*a  white  mill,  not  two  miles  off,  on  a  spur  of  the  mountains,  and 
looking  innocent  of  the  fierce  fighting  which  it  had  drawn  around 
its  thick  walls  and  high  hill-side.  The  Mexicans  have  erected  a 
handsome  monument  there  to  their  own  valor,  in  withstanding  with 
a  whole  cityful  of  two  hundred  thousand  the  shock  of  a  little 
handful  of  a  dozen  thousand.  It  withstood  for  a  season  only,  for 
they  soon  yielded  and  made  their  retreat  good  to  this  hill,  whither 
the  Americans  followed,  and  whence  they  with  steadfast  step  pur- 
sued them  to  the  city  and  the  President's  palace.  You  can  see 
the  whole  route  of  the  troops,  from  their  debouching  between  the 
snow  mountains  yonder,  to  their  battles  of  Contreras,  San  Antonio, 
and  Cherubusco,  below  the  city  round  to  Molino  del  Rey  above 
it,  and  so  hither,  and  into  town. 

But  let  us  descend,  for  the  sun  is  getting  up,  and  we  must  be  off. 

Just  before  we  reach  the  gate-way  we  see  a  pool,  cut  into  the 
ground,  partly  filled  with  water.  It  is  well  walled,  with  steps  de- 
scending into  it,  and  large  enough  for  a  comfortable  bath.  This 
is  called  the  Bath  of  Montezuma,  and  was  probably  used  by  him  : 
but  it  was  only  a  receptacle.  The  fountain  whence  it  sprung  is 
just  out  of  the  present  grounds,  and  is  the  private  property  of  Se- 
nor  Escandron,  who  makes  many  a  penny  out  of  its  waters.  We 
pass  out  the  gate,  ride  under  shading  willows  by  the  water-courses, 
enter  the  gardens  of  the  bath,  and  the  inclosure  of  the  spring. 
Here  is  a  pool  fifty  feet  square  and  forty  feet  deep.  The  water  is 
so  clear  that  you  can  see  it  breaking  out  of  the  rock-bed,  a  tiny 
hill-side  and  hollow  amidst  the  ferns  and  grasses  that  cover  that 
natural  floor  with  a  perpetual  carpet.     Here  to  plunge  you  will 


TACUBAYA:    TWO   MILES  FARTHER, 


225 


find  delightful  in  this  rising  heat  of  a  January  sun.  An  adjoining 
square  the  water  flows  into,  whose  floor  is  paved  with  tiles,  and 
whose  depth  is  not  above  your  neck.  So,  if  you  are  timid,  you  can 
splash  in  the  artificial  pool.  A  like  bath  for  ladies  is  near  by,  and 
a  saunter  in  the  garden  follows  the  refreshment. 


THE    BATHS   OF  MONTEZUMA. 

If  intent  on  a  ride  farther  in  this  direction,  we  can  keep  on  to 
Tacubaya,  two  miles  farther  out.  There  are  found  some  superb 
gardens,  the  private  grounds  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  city.  Groves, 
ravines,  rivulets,  lakelets,  mounds  of  flowers,  tall  Australian  gum- 
trees,  and  a  multitude  of  sorts  we  can  admire  but  not  name  ;  views 
of  the  snow  range,  cooling  eye  and  picture  ;  a  sumptuous  house, 
with  its  broad  courts  open  to  visitors,  encircled  with  flowers,  sedans, 
and  pictures;  even  a  chapel  for  family  worship  ;  every  conceivable 
thing,  but — safetv.     The  value  of  these  owners  is  too  high  in  the 


226  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

kidnaping  market  for  them  to  trust  themselves  so  far  from  town 
overnight.  So  the  place  is  deserted  except  for  fetes,  when  a  body 
of  troops  is  detached  for  their  protection.  A  little  less  glory  and 
a  little  less  danger  would  be  desirable. 

Another  favorite  drive  is  southward.  The  exit  is  less  agreeable, 
but  once  out  of  town  the  trip  is  more  natural  and  more  delight- 
ful. We  pass  on  our  horses,  no  other  mode  is  appropriate,  hard- 
ly any  other  possible,  by  the  great  square,  southward.  One  route 
leads  us  to  the  Penyan,  a  hill  overlooking  the  lake,  full  of  caves 
and  of  robbers,  whose  horrid  lair  is  surpassed  by  their  more  horrid 
aspect.  It  does  not  seem  possible  that  human  beings  can  fall  so 
low.  The  Indians  of  the  plains  are  hardly  as  fierce  and  degraded 
as  these  children,  perhaps,  of  Montezuma  and  Cortez.  There  is 
but  little  comfort  in  pausing  among  them  ;  for  you  must  give  bak- 
sheesh as  surely  as  if  at  the  Pyramids,  and  you  may  not  get  off 
with  what  you  are  willing  to  give.  The  views  hardly  repay  the 
risk.     So  let  us  turn  to  a  more  agreeable  company  and  scenery. 

Leave  the  city  by  the  south-western  gate.  You  will  have  hard 
work  to  find  it.  The  straightness  of  the  streets  gets  so  narrow 
and  short  that  it  has  all  the  effect  of  crookedness,  as  a  straight  line 
cut  into  an  infinite  number  of  short  straight  lines  may  become  a 
circle.  So  these  bits  and  threads  of  lanes  have  all  the  bewilder- 
ment of  Cologne,  the  head  of  crooked  towns.  The  streets  are  as 
dirty  and  the  huts  as  poor  as  it  is  possible  for  either  to  be,  and  we 
gladly  reach  the  gate  and  touch  the  open  fields.  Level  and  low 
lies  the  land.     The  road  is  hard,  though  pulpy. 

The  canal  is  soon  struck.  This  is  the  feeder  of  the  city.  Along 
its  watery  way  for  five  hundred  years,  perhaps  more,  have  the  peo- 
ple and  the  produce  of  the  region  come  to  town.  It  is  the  oldest 
canal  in  the  world,  unless  China  ranks  it,  which  is  doubtful.  It  is 
not  a  canal  for  horses  ;  the  boats  are  pushed  along  by  the  boat- 
men. 

Garden  "truck"  is  the  chief  freight,  though  green  lucern  grass- 
es, for  the  horses  of  the  town,  frequently  load  heavily  the  little 
craft.     Pleasure  and  carriage  boats  ply  the  waters,  long,  narrow, 


A    QUESTION  FOR  ANTIQUARIANS. 


227 


covered  with  awnings,  and  well  patronized  by  the  people  on  the 
line. 

These  canals  were  just  as  busy  when  Cortez  first  came  over 
yonder  pass  as  to-day.     He  saw  and  noted  their  traffic  when  he 


THE  CANAL. 


marched  along  their  side,  the  invited  guest  of  Montezuma,  to  the 
doomed  city.  How  many  ages  they  had  then  been  employed  he 
knew  not ;  no  one  knows. 

Along  their  sides  spring  up  villages,  as  the  Erie  Canal  has  made 


228  OUR   XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

towns,  great  and  small,  beside  its  banks.  Some  of  these  villages 
rise  to  the  dignity  of  towns ;  others  are  mere  halting-places  for  the 
boats. 

But  what  made  the  canal  ?  Who  and  when,  may  be  beyond  our 
reach.  What  did  it  is  more  apprehensible.  It  was  the  floating 
island.  That  curiosity  of  this  country  is  a  veritable  fact.  As  soon 
almost  as  you  leave  the  wall,  you  perceive  these  novel  lands.  The 
ridgeway  of  the  canal  is  wide  enough  for  several  horses.  On  one 
side  is  the  long  ditch,  on  the  other  many  short  ones,  cut  straight, 
not  more  than  a  rod  or  two  apart,  filled  with  water,  and  inclosing 
plats  of  ground  of  about  a  quarter  of  an  acre.  The  ditch,  cut  square 
about  these  plats,  allows  the  proprietor,  lessee,  or  laborer  to  get 
easily  around  his  lot  in  his  bit  of  a  dory,  or  scow,  from  six  to 
twelve  feet  long,  and  two  wide. 

The  ground  is  thus  patchworked  for  miles.  At  times  the  spaces 
are  larger ;  but  that  is  their  uniform  character,  at  least  near  the 
city.  Nearer  the  mountains  they  get  into  almost  natural  forma- 
tions, and  grow  shrubs  and  even,  trees  on  their  spongy  foundations. 
This  soil  is  largely  made.  The  soft,  saturated  earth  is  superplaced 
with  layers  of  muck  and  sand  and  other  soils.  These  sink  gradu- 
ally by  wash  and  by  weather,  and  other  soils  are  placed  upon  them. 
So  they  are  kept  up  and  made  fit  for  culture,  and  grow  deeper  with 
every  deposit. 

They  hardly  float,  but  they  rock  and  yield  to  a  footstep.  Far- 
ther out  they  are  said  to  fluctuate  somewhat,  yet  there  they  never 
float  as  a  boat,  but  at  the  most  wave  a  little  to  and  fro  with  the 
moving  stream.  These  gardens  are  cultivated  the  year  round. 
"  The  plowman  overtakes  the  reaper,  and  the  treader  of  grapes 
him  that  soweth  seed."     It  is  perpetual  seed-time  and  harvest. 

We  ride  by  the  once  famous  hill,  where  the  sacred  fire  was  kin- 
dled once  every  half-century,  a  black-purple  peak,  perhaps  three 
hundred  feet  above  the  marsh.  All  the  fires  in  all  the  land  were 
extinguished,  and  out  of  flint  and  steel,  from  the  bleeding  heart  of 
the  human  sacrifice,  the  new  flame  was  here  kindled,  and  sent 
throughout  the  land.     On  return  we  enter  by  the  paseo,  where  the 


A    VISIT  TO    THE  "COMMODIA." 


FLOATING   GARDENS. 


bust  of  Guatemozin  stands,  on  a  pedestal  in  the  centre  of  a  square, 
with  commendatory  words  to  his  valor,  as  the  last  of  the  Aztecs. 
It  is  another  proof  of  how  the  sons  build  the  sepulchres  of  those 
whom  the  fathers  slew.  Why  a  statue  of  graceful,  gentle  Monte- 
zuma has  never  been  erected,  nay  stranger  yet,  why  one  of  Cortez 
has  never  been  carved,  is  each  a  mystery,  or  would  be  in  any  other 
land  than  this.  Guatemozin  is  fortunate  above  his  conqueror;  for 
not  a  bust  even  bears  his  features  to  posterity.  But  he  is  not  the 
last  of  the  Aztecs.  They  are  rising  again  to  power.  The  last 
President  was  a  pure  blood  ;  many  of  the  present  leaders  are. 

Our  rides  have  wearied  the  horses,  if  not  you.  Let  us  go  back 
to  the  Commodia,  give  them  up  to  the  mozos,  and  ourselves  to  a 
delightful  breakfast  at  this  choicest  of  cafes.  You  will  find  coffee 
and  rolls,  fried  and  sliced  potatoes,  and  ice-water,  and  beefsteak, 
equal  to  the  best  in  the  Palais  Royal.      Here  we  can  sit  and  talk 


230  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

of  the  past  and  future  of  the  fair  and  almost  fairy-land,  strength- 
ened outwardly  with  bath'  and  ride,  and  inwardly  with  this  deli- 
cious berry  and  its  attendants.  Nowhere  can  you  get  such  coffee 
as  here.  A  small  black  tin  pot  of  blackest  and  hottest  coffee  in 
one  hand,  a  like  small  black  tin  pot  of  whitest  and  hottest  milk  in 
the  other.  Pour.  If  a  native,  you  will  not  grunt  "enough"  till  the 
tumbler  (for  that  they  use)  is  well  filled.  If  a  foreigner,  a  third  of 
a  glass  satisfies  from  the  coffee-pot,  and  the  milk  leaves  it  then 
stronger  than  you  dare  to  drink  it  at  home.  This  berry  is  native, 
and  should  replace  with  us  the  coarse  Rio  and  costly  Java,  to  the 
latter  even  of  which  it  is  superior. 


A    MAMMOTH  CA}'E.  2-i 


XI. 

A   GARDEN  IN  EDEN. 

A  Temptation. — Up  the  Mountains. — The  Cross  of  Cortez. — Sight  of  the  Town 
and  Valley. — The  downward  Plunge. — A  Lounge. — Church  of  Cortez. — The 
Enchanted  Garden. — Idolatry. — The  Market-place. — The  Almanac  against 
Protestantism. — Palace  of  Cortez. — The  Indian  Garden  of  Maximilian. — A 
Sugar  Hacienda. — The  latter  End. — All  Zones. 

In  Eden  was  a  garden.  Eden  itself  was  paradise,  but  the  para- 
dise had  an  inner  paradise  to  which  the  outer  delights  were  the 
same  as  brass  and  iron  to  the  gold  and  silver  in  the  age  of  Solo- 
mon. So  Mexico  may  be  an  Eden,  but  there  is  a  garden  eastward 
and  southward  in  this  Eden  that  makes  its  other  beauties  tame. 

My  stay  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  a  temptation  to  unite  a  lit- 
tle pleasure  with  business  was  too  much  for  my  feeble  will  to  re- 
sist. So  far  I  had  made  only  one  excursion  of  which  the  Church 
was  not  the  sole  end  and  aim — that  was  the  two  clays  and  a  night 
to  the  Convent  of  El  Desierto,  and  even  there  I  could  not  resist 
the  conceiving,  if  not  the  planning,  of  a  camp-ground  in  its  ancient 
and  magnificent  woods. 

But  a  cave  of  huge  dimensions,  second  only  to  the  Mammoth 
of  Kentucky,  if  second  to  that,  is  reported  to  be  three  clays  to  the 
south,  less  than  two  days  beyond  Cuernervaca.  A  party  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen  arranged  to  visit  the  cave.  I  was  invited  to  join 
them.  I  hardly  saw  how  I  could  take  four  days  for  recreation.  In 
addition  to  the  two  already  taken  out  of  the  sixty  spent  here,  this 
would  make  a  week's  vacation — altogether  too  much  time  to  tnrow 
away  in  this  luxuriating  clime.  But  if  we  were  going  back  to  some 
Ante-romanistic  usages  as  well  as  faith,  we  might  utilize  the  cave 
for  hermit  purposes,  as  the  Desierto  grounds  are  to  be  utilized,  I 
hope,  for  camp-meetings  ;  but  we  can  hardly  get  Methodists  to  im- 


232  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

mure  themselves  in  celibacy  and  huts,  even  in  Mexico.  So  it  is 
not  possible  to  make  that  a  negocio,  as  they  say  here  ;  a  "  biz,"  as 
the  rougher  Yankee  of  the  West  puts  it. 

1  o-o  to  Cuernervaca  because  there  business  lies  ;  but  the  cave,  I 
fear  I  must  say,  through  a  glimmer  as  to  the  possibility  of  reaching 

it,  allures  me  on. 

The  city  I  seek  lies  to  the  south,  over  the  mountains,  between 
Popocatepetl  and  Ajusco,  the  third  peak  of  the  valley,  and  occa- 
sionally specked  with  snow.  The  morning  is  gray  and  misty,  and 
if  in  the  States  would  insure  rain.  Here  it  is  an  anomaly  that  will 
perhaps  yield  a  shower,  but  more  probably  be  burned  up  by  the 
torrid  sun  on  his  way  over  Iztaccihuatl. 

We  ride  through  a  long  avenue,  well  lined  with  trees  for  several 
miles,  a  finer  drive  out  of  the  city  than  New  York  or  Brooklyn  can 
boast,  yet  only  one  of  half  a  dozen  equally  delightful  and  equally 
unsafe ;  for  cavalry  patrol  these  roads  away  up  to  the  city's  gates 
to  protect  the  traveler  from  the  robber,  the  foreigner  from  the 
native. 

It  is  fifteen  miles  before  the  spurs  of  the  mountains  are  struck. 
A  charming  landscape  it  is,  and  a  morning  of  exhilaration,  despite 
the  threatening  clouds— nay,  because  of  them.  What  lovely  ha- 
ciendas appear  on  the  roadside,  with  trees  sprinkled  over  them, 
brooks  running  through. them,  green  beds  where  the  sickle  is  busy 
cutting  clown  green  food  for  the  market,  broad  plains,  green  and 
brown  ;  surely  here  is  paradise  before  we  start  for  Eden  !  Yet 
these  splendid  properties  can  be  bought  for  a  song.  Who  wants 
to  found  a  Christian  college  near  the  city  ?  Now  is  your  chance. 
For  thirty  to  fifty  thousand  dollars  you  can  buy  immense  estates 
with  stone  buildings,  including  often  the  chapel,  all  ready  for  occu- 
pation. 

Mexacalcingo  and  other  "  cingoes  "  lie  off  to  the  left  in  moist 
meadows  and  lakes,  with  trees  rising,  like  the  earth  itself,  being  out 
of  the  water  and  in  the  water,  and  islands  floating,  or  unsteady  to 
the  tread.  They  float  up  and  down  only.  Amidst  these  amphibi- 
ous luxuries  the  people  dwell  in  a  Venice  of  perpetual  greenness. 


THE  SUMMIT  REACHED.  233 

The  road  turns  up  the  hills,  and  becomes  very  rough  and  steep. 
A  long,  sharp,  strong  pull  of  a  mile  brings  us  to  San  Mateo — St. 
Matthew — a  village  of  bamboo  houses,  standing  in  black,  fat  sand, 
and  among  tall  and  very  green  and  very  beautiful  ash-trees.  It  is 
as  lovely  and  as  dirty  and  as  dangerous  as  you  wish  or  do  not 
wish.  Robbers  are  thick,  but  we  are  safe,  for  the  guard  is  our  de- 
fense. 

On  we  climb,  through  a  frigid  vegetation  and  temperature,  as  I 
found  it  on  my  return — "  a  steady  pull  at  the  collar,"  as  Murray 
puts  it  in  his  "Swiss  Guide"  —  for  a  dozen  miles.  Behind  us 
glowed  the  Mexic  valley,  green  and  glossy,  where  lake  and  tree 
met  together.  It  is  a  magnificent  landscape,  and  naturally  set 
Cortez  violently  in  love  with  it,  as  it  had  the  Aztec  and  the  Toltec 
before  him.  One  does  not  tire  in  admiring  its  wonderful  combina- 
tion of  snow  range  and  purple  mountains,  of  broad  lake  and  ever- 
green foliage,  of  pretty  town  and  grand  city.  The  lakes  here  are 
an  important  part  of  the  landscape,  if  landscape  it  may  be  called 
which  they  make  up.  Tezcoco,  the  largest,  seems  to  fill  all  the 
outer  section  of  the  valley.  The  lesser  ones  near  at  hand  are  be- 
sprinkled with  trees  and  towers,  green  and  white,  mingling  prettily 
with  their  level  lustre. 

The  summit  is  reached  at  La  Guardia,  a  small  collection  of  huts, 
where  a  breakfast  that  I  ate  not  was  paid  for.  Its  contents  I  do 
not  presume  to  describe.  It  takes  time  to  learn  to  like  cod-fish, 
and  beans,  and  sauerkraut,  and  tomatoes,  and  corn-bread,  and  all 
local  luxuries  ;  why  not,  also,  to  learn  to  like  tortillas  and  chili,  a 
hot  and  not  a  cold  piquante,  and  other  dishes  I  do  not  dare  to 
spell  any  more  than  to  taste  ? 

Breakfast  over,  we  cross  the  summit  through  black  and  barren 
scoriaj,  the  tossings,  evidently,  of  craters,  and  ere  long  sight  a  red 
stone  cross  upon  a  round  gray  pedestal,  two  or  three  feet  high, 
called  the  Cross  of  the  Marquis.  This,  it  is  said,  is  the  boundary 
mark  of  the  possessions  of  Cortez,  who  was  created  Marquis  of  the 
Valley  of  Ojaca,  and  placed  this  cross  as  the  beginning  of  his  pos- 
sessions. 

if) 


,,-  OUR   X EXT- DOOR   NEIGHBOR. 

Woods  now  appear,  pine  chiefly,  not  large,  sprinkled  over  much 
space,  and  suggestive  of  a  cold  climate.  We  are  over  ten  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  sea ;  surely  it  has  a  right  to  be  cold.  For 
several  miles  we  gradually  slope  downward,  until  suddenly  the  val- 
ley we  seek  opens  at  our  feet,  ablaze  with  the  hottest  beams. 
Clouds  cover  us,  and  make  the  sunny  hollow  of  Cuernervaca  look 
the  warmer. 

It  is  a  bowl,  at  this  height  seemingly  not  ten  miles  from  rim  to 
rim,  yet  probably  fifty  would  not  pace  its  base.  The  bottom  is  not 
level,  even  at  this  height,  but  embossed,  as  it  were,  in  many  forms 
and  colors.  That  curved  knot,  looking  not  unlike  the  cow's  horn 
which  its  name  signifies,  lying  not  far  from  this  side  of  the  em- 
bracing hills,  is  Cuernervaca.  A  belt  of  emerald  surrounds  it,  espe- 
cially deep  in  color  and  in  extent  on  its  farther  or  lower  side.  A 
little  farther  on  you  see  spots  of  a  light  and  very  brilliant  green. 
They  are  patches  here,  but  miles  there,  of  the  sugar-cane,  portions 
of  the  sugar  haciendas,  the  chief  produce  of  the  valley.  One  rare- 
ly sees  such  a  vivid  green.  "  Living  green  "  indeed  these  fields 
stand  dressed  in,  like  those  beyond  the  swelling  flood  and  the 
rocky  rampart  of  death. 

The  valley  is  small  as  compared  with  the  Mexican,  but  not  small 
of  itself.  It  is  hemmed  in  by  mountains,  the  tall  Popocatepetl 
forming  its  north-eastern  tower.  This  looks  uncommonly  grand  in 
contrast  with  the  fiery  beauty  which  it  coolingly  overshadows  and 
protects,  like  a  calm  and  loving  father  bending  over  his  beautiful 
and  passionate  daughter. 

We  scamper  clown  a  horrible  road  ;  through  an  Indian  town 
named  Huachilaqui ;  down  a  steeper  and  more  horrible  road, 
amidst  boulders  tossed  up  from  the  never-mended  pavement;  jump- 
ing from  rock  to  rock,  almost,  in  our  mad  plunging;  the  ladies, 
perched  above  the  driver,  scared  and  delighted  with  the  leaping 
coach  and  the  glorious  landscape.  For  two  hours  we  thus  go  head- 
long, until  the  hollow  is  struck,  and  we  race  merrily  on,  still  slight- 
ly descending,  and  run  clown  the  rattling  pavements  of  the  clean 
town,  every  door  and  window  of  which  seems  occupied,  to  note  the 


AN  ACTUAL  PARADISE.  235 

welcome  arrival  of  the  stage,  which  only  once  in  two  days  is  visible 
to  the  naked  eye,  and  which  is  the  only  vehicle  I  have  seen  in  all 
the  town — a  rarity,  therefore,  of  a  double  value,  in  its  contents  and 
in  itself.  They  gaze  at  the  top  seat,  whose  occupants  are  so  busy, 
bobbing  their  heads  to  escape  the  lamps  hanging  on  ropes  across 
the  middle  of  the  street,  that  they  can  not  gaze  back  in  return. 

The  scamper  ends  in  flying  through  a  portal  and  coming  to  a 
sharp  halt  in  the  court  of  the  Hotel  Diligencias,  as  all  the  best  ho- 
tels are  called  in  this  country. 

To  give  you  a  taste  of  tropical  perfection,  I  shall  have  to  make  a 
journal  of  my  two  days'  stay  in  Cuernervaca.  I  hardly  expected 
to  stay  as  many  waking  hours.  The  cave,  forty  miles  away,  I  could 
but  dimly  see  by  faith,  and  did  not  see  at  all  by  sight.  One  of  the 
party  was  sick,  and  delayed  his  coming.  We  waited  for  him,  but 
I  did  not  go  with  them  after  his  arrival.  My  vacation  was  no 
vacation.  I  made  an  inspection  of  the  town  for  business,  but  also 
had  some  time  to  spare  for  enjoying  its  less  official  aspects. 

Do  you  remember  Poe's  lines  "  to  Ellen  ?"  If  not,  get  it,  and 
read  in  it  the  description  of  this  tiny  city  and  its  not  tiny  surround- 
ings: 

"A  thousand 

Roses  that  grew  in  an  enchanted  garden, 
Where  no  wind  dared  to  stir  except  on  tiptoe." 

You  have,  of  course,  read  William  Morris's  "Earthly  Paradise?" 
It  is  cold  in  its  warmest  colorings  to  this  natural  and  actual  para- 
dise. It  is  just  the  right  length,  too,  for  this  lassitudinarian  cli- 
mate and  people.  Its  oversweet  prolixity  exactly  fits  a  land  where 
'•  dulces,"  which  are  sweetmeats,  preserves,  and  pastry  all  in  one, 
are  of  very  many  varieties,  and  the  tart  and  lemon -juice  never 
acetate  their  sweetness  ;  where  even  the  lemons  themselves  lose 
their  acidity,  and  are  sweet  to  tastelessness,  and  lemonade  is  only 
half- sweetened  ice-water.  Tennyson's  "  Lotos -Eaters"  also  is  a 
sample  of  the  clime,  except  that  he  puts  too  much  vigor  into  the 
thought,  a  blunder  of  which  Morris  is  never  guilty,  thought  being 
as  far  from  his  mind  as  from   a   Cuernervaca  belle's  or   mule's. 


236  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

Come  with  me  on  a  saunter.  It  can  be  nothing  else.  The  busy 
trot  of  New  York  or  whirl  of  Chicago  would  degenerate  into  a 
"loaf"  here. 

First,  let  us  go  to  that  which  is  the  most  ancient,  the  Church. 
It  is  well  to  give  our  firstlings  of  a  walk  and  a  talk  to  the  Lord  as 
well  as  of  all  other  things.  Cortez,  wicked  as  he  was,  was  very 
careful  to  make  these  oblations.  Oblations  concerning  which  often, 
I  fear,  the  Lord  said,  "  My  soul  hateth."  It  is  one  of  the  most  an- 
cient on  this  continent,  though  very  juvenile  as  compared  with 
many  in  the  older,  but  not  Old,  World.  A  large  open  square  has 
three  not  large  chapels  at  three  of  its  corners.  The  southernmost 
is  that  erected  by  the  conqueror.  It  has  Maximilian's  arms  over 
the  door-way,  which  Juarez  sought  to  remove ;  but  the  citizens  for- 
bade his  officers.  They  had  a  kindly  heart  for  the  fallen  emperor. 
It  has  nothing  especially  attractive  about  it  except  a  flying  buttress 
and  one  or  two  high  arches. 

Just  above  it  is  the  enchanted  garden,  rich  in  tropical  fruits  and 
flowers.  It  was  built,  that  is,  its  walls,  walks,  fountains,  steps,  and 
other  costly  arrangements,  by  Laborde ;  not  its  present  fruits  and 
flowers,  which  are  its  chief  attractions.  Laborde  was  one  of  the 
discoverers  of  silver,  who  amassed  wonderful  fortunes.  It  was  af- 
terward a  resort  for  Carlotta  and  Maximilian,  and,  though  in  decay, 
is  still  full  of  rare  luxuries  of  vistas  and  trees  and  bowers  and  flow- 
ers. The  roses  run  up  on  tall  mangoes,  and  hang  in  white  and 
wild  luxuriance  from  their  lofty  branches  ;  lilies  with  delicate  and 
drooping  leaves,  the  most  delicate  I  ever  saw,  bow  their  graceful 
heads  in  fragrant  silence.  The  mango's  branches  and  leaves  are 
so  compact  and  dark  that  it  makes  a  shade  and  a  coolness  like  a 
lofty  roof.  The  time  of  its  fruit  is  not  yet,  so  one  can  not  repeat 
as  quite  apropos  to  this  hour  Hood's  subtle  and  pungent  sarcasm 
on  Constantinople  as  the  place 

"  Where  woman  goes  to  market  as  the  man  goes." 

It  is  said  to  be  as  delightful  to  the  taste  as  the  Circassian  market- 
ings of  the  Stamboul  are  to  the  sight. 


PROCLAMATIONS  OF  "INDULGENCES." 


237 


Bananas,  cocoa  and  other  palms,  oranges,  coffee,  and  all  manner 
of  precious  fruit,  abound  ;  while  the  vistas  along  the  broken  arches, 
half-empty  pools,  and  flowering  trees,  to  the  black  mountains  near 
at  hand,  are  as  beautiful  as  desolate.  Like  its  once  profusely 
wealthy  builder  and  its  profusely  pompous  occupants,  it  has  itself 
become  a  ruin.  How  much  better  to  have  used  this  wealth  in 
founding  of  hospitals  and  schools,  that  would  have  remained  a 
perpetual  illumination  and  elevation  of  this  still  degraded  popula- 
tion !  Will  the  overflowing  wealth  of  America  to-day  be  any  more 
wisely  spent  ? 

Nowhere  have  I  seen  idolatry  more  rampant,  or  the  Church  au- 
thorities more  faithfully  upholding  it,  than  here.  On  the  walls  of 
one  of  the  chapels  in  the  Cortez  church-yard  are  proclamations  by 
the  Archbishop  of  Mexico  and  Bishop  of  Puebla  offering  eighty 
days  and  more  of  indulgence  for  a  certain  number  of  repetitions  of 
the  Lord's  Prayer,  Ave  Marias,  and  the  sweet  numbers  of  Jesus,  be- 
fore pictures  in  that  chapel  of  St.  John,  and  that  of  the  Magdalen, 
and  the  Virgin.  These  were  all  printed  and  put  up  as  a  permanent 
institution.  I  saw  none  earning  the  indulgence.  Perhaps  they  had 
a  number  of  days  yet  left  from  previous  exercises,  and  did  not  need 
to  go  through  any  labor  of  prayer  at  present ;  as  the  Neapolitan  laz- 
zaroni  refused  to  carry  a  valise  because  he  had  no  need  of  money, 
since  he  had  had  his  breakfast  and  the  time  of  dinner  was  not  yet. 
In  fact,  I  saw  hardly  any  worship  of  any  sort  in  this  city.  It  seem- 
ed as  if  the  Church  at  all  hours  was,  like  the  climate  and  the  town, 
fast  asleep.  It  can  wake  up  like  these  mountains  about  us  in 
blood  and  fire  and  vapor  of  smoke.  It  is  reported  to  be  already 
thus  reviving.  I  heard  a  rumor,  on  the  first  day  of  my  arrival  here, 
that  there  had  been  a  riot  at  Oajutla  (pronounced  Wahootla),  forty 
miles  from  here,  and  that  forty  Christians  had  been  killed.  This 
rumor  is  not  confirmed,  but  it  shows  something  of  the  state  of  the 
atmosphere,  and  possible  earthquakes  and  eruptions,  that  such  ru- 
mors could  get  current. 

But  let  us  get  away  from  the  torpid  present,  and  the  perhaps 
volcanic  future,  into  a  once  powerful  past.     Leave  the  gardens  and 


238  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

churches  on  the  highest  ridge  of  the  town,  the  backbone  of  the 
back,  along  which  it  lies.  We  pass  down  a  clean  and  narrow 
street ;  the  narrower  the  better  here,  for  the  narrower  the  cooler. 
A  few  rods  and  we  come  to  the  market-place,  the  prettiest,  and 
one  of  the  largest,  I  have  seen  in  Mexico.  It  is  surrounded  by  a 
pillared  arcade  broad  enough  for  many  hucksters  to  sit  in  the  cool 
breeze  and  do  their  petty  traffic.  Walk  around  this  shaded  quad- 
rangle, not  halting  long  in  the  meat  department,  for  those  raw  and 
bloody  strips  that  dangle  by  the  yard  are  not  especially  attractive 
to  sight  or  smell.  The  fruit  department  makes  it  up,  however. 
The  women  sit  on  the  ground  or  on  a  mat,  their  stalls  being  on 
the  ground  likewise.  Here  are  oranges,  water-melons,  peaches, 
bananas,  and  unnumbered  fruits  whose  names  you  know  not,  nor 
their  natures.  They  are  pleasant  to  the  taste,  most  of  them  too 
pleasant.  Beans  of  many  sorts  and  colors,  mats,  hats,  maize,  toys, 
and  knickknacks,  fill  up  the  space  with  wares,  and  make  it  busy 
all  the  morning  with  buyers  and  sellers. 

Here,  too,  I  bought  an  almanac  which  shows  the  danger  there  is 
of  a  Romanist  eruption.  It  was  a  common  little  duodecimo,  enti- 
tled "  Calendario  de  Mariano  Galvan  Rivera,  para  el  ano  de  1873." 
It  is  the  popular  "  Old  Farmers'  Almanac  "  of  the  people.  Over  a 
hundred  thousand  are  said  to  be  circulated.  The  months  are  filled 
with  Church  annals,  and  the  whole  is  more  of  a  Church  annual  than 
the  almanac  of  any  American  church.  In  the  middle  is  injected 
twelve  pages  of  fine  type,  giving  what  it  calls  "  Origen  del  Protes- 
tantismo."  The  most  of  it  deals  in  harangues  against  the  old  Re- 
formers, Luther  and  Calvin,  and  in  praises  of  the  Jesuits.  But  it 
carefully  shows  that  it  is  meant  for  modern  purposes  by  its  intro- 
ductory passages,  wherein  are  these  paragraphs  : 

"The  political  dissensions  which  so  lamentably  separate  Mexi- 
cans from  each  other,  even  in  the  bosom  of  the  family,  were  not 
enough  for  the  misery  of  our  poor  Mexico.  There  was  still  want- 
ing the  far  more  lamentable  religious  schism,  to  which  origin  was 
given  by  the  toleration  of  forms  of  religion  which  were  not  in  the 
country,  both  whose  principles  and  whose  very  names  were  quite 


AN  INJECTED  DENUNCIATION.  2^ 

unknown  among  our  people.*  Hence,  to  give  effect  to  the  law  of 
toleration,  it  was  necessary  either  to  invent  new  forms  of  religion, 
which  was  not  easy,  or  else  to  import  them  from  abroad.  The  sec- 
ond expedient  was  the  simpler,  because  by  the  dollars  (hard  cash) 
of  the  missionaries,  with  its  wonted  efficacy  and  persuasion,  innu- 
merable adepts  were  to  be  procured  ;  these  missionaries  being  not 
a  little  aided  by  the  ignorance  especially  of  the  people  concerning 
the  origin,  principles,  methods,  and  objects  of  the  sects  dissenting 
from  the  Catholic  Church. 

"As  our  almanac  is  an  essentially  popular  publication,  we  think 
that  in  no  place  would  an  article  be  more  appropriate  which  aims 
to  make  known  the  fathers  of  the  distinct  sects  comprehended  un- 
der the  common  name  of  Protestants.  Indeed,  let  us  copy  from  a 
Compendium  of  Universal  History  by  a  friend,  still  unpublished 
for  immaterial  reasons,  the  part  which  relates  to  the  origin  of  the 
Protestant  Reform.  From  this  will  appear  the  corrupt  manners, 
the  excessive  pride  of  the  Reformers,  and  the  vile  motives  which 
impelled  them  to  separate  from  the  Church  in  which  they  were 
born,  and  to  attack  doctrines  which  they  had  believed  from  parent- 
al instruction  when  young,  and  through  personal  conviction  when 
grown  up.  We  shall  see,  like  Tertullian,  the  confirmation  of  the 
proscription  of  Catholic  doctrine  against  the  innovators  of  all  times, 
since  it  alone  has  sprung  from  the  apostolic  fountain,  and  runs 
limpid,  unpolluted  with  corrupt  and  foreign  elements,  down  to  our 
days,  precipitating  foreign  ideas  into  the  impure  gutters  of  here- 
sy, and  vigilantly  guarded  by  two  hundred  and  sixty  popes  in  unin- 
terrupted succession  from  Saint  Peter  :  a  phenomenon  which  has 
given  it  a  character  of  truth  and  divinity  in  eyes  less  thoughtful  or 
more  prejudiced  against  it." 

*  The  following  was  appended  to  the  original  :  "Only  our  illustrious  neigh- 
bors, the  Yankees,  have  this  faculty,  be  it  said,  unless  we  except  the  new  sect  of 
the  Mormons,  so  that  wc  are  in  fear  and  trembling  lest  our  friends  who  have 
done  us  so  much  good  should  bestow  it  on  us,  and  with  them  should  come  po- 
lygamy, community  of  goods,  and  other  happy  gifts  which  afflict  our  friends  just 
mentioned  ;  and,  moreover,  they  are  not  very  scrupulous,  as  we  say." 


_,40  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

How  cunning  is  this  putting  of  the  case  against  "our  illustrious 
neighbors,  the  Yankees."  It  shows  the  fear  of  the  papacy  and  the 
power  of  the  new  movement,  that  such  falsehoods  as  these  are  so 
diligently  and  widely  circulated.  It  shows,  too,  where  the  persecu- 
tions arise,  and  who  foster  them.  A  priest  undoubtedly  wrote  this 
perversion  of  history.  The  archbishop  approves  its  circulation. 
They  will  create  confusion  and  bloody  work,  but  will  not  stop  the 
new  revival. 

Opposite  this  fine  plaza,  on  the  opposite  ridge  of  the  backbone 
from  the  Empress's  Garden,  stands  the  palace  of  Cortez. 

It  is  now  a  court  and  a  prison.  It  was  somewhat  of  both  when 
he  lived  here,  for  he  was  a  sort  of  prisoner,  banished  from  the  city 
of  Mexico,  and  living  as  near  it  as  he  dare,  under  a  surveillance, 
doubtless,  all  the  time,  of  the  emperor,  for  he  was  too  great  to  be 
trusted  with  power  and  place. 

When  he  was  besieging  the  capital  he  made  a  raid  on  this  town. 
The  deep  ravine  which  incloses  it  on  either  side  was  crossed  at  the 
eastern  or  lower  side  by  a  tree  being  thrown  across  the  chasm,  and 
thus  making  a  bridge  for  his  soldiers. 

He  was  forbidden  by  the  empress,  as  regent,  from  coming  within 
ten  miles  of  the  city,  because,  as  it  is  said,  he  gave  his  new  wife 
four  magnificent  carved  emeralds  instead  of  giving  them  to  the  em- 
press. So  much  for  being  more  of  a  lover  than  a  courtier.  But  he 
evidently  gave  them  to  his  lady  expecting  to  get  them  again,  which 
he  did.     But  he  had  better  lost  his  gems  than  his  capital. 

He  made  this  city  his  capital,  and  tried  and  hoped  to  make  it  the 
capital  of  the  country.  He  built  a  large  palace  on  the  edge  of  the 
ravine  we  first  crossed,  that  in  its  decav  is  a  noble  structure.  It 
towers  above  the  ravine  for  seventy  feet  or  more,  and  covers  with 
its  courts  several  acres.  The  view  from  its  azatea,  or  roof,  is  ex- 
ceedingly charming.  The  snow  mountains  seem  almost  at  the  gate. 
The  fields  stretch  toward  them  for  a  few  miles  in  easy  slopes. 
Then  ragged  black  peaks  of  every  contortion  —  a  saw  of  iron — 
range  along  beneath  the  calm  summits.  They  look  like  columns 
of  lava,  black,  ragged,  tall,  and  huge.     The  fields  stretch  off  west- 


THE  EMPRESS'S   GARDEN.  241 

ward  and  southward  in  green  and  brown  and  gold,  and  all  around 
stand  the  comforting  and  strengthening  hills. 

But  just  adjoining  is  the  fairest  scene  of  all.  Right  under  the 
castle  to  the  south-west,  in  a  ravine  and  on  its  inclosing  banks  and 
upper  rims,  lies  a  paradise  of  perfect  green.  It  is  half  a  mile  to 
a  mile  long  and  wide.  The  trees  are  lustrous  as  velvet,  and  every 
tropical  delight  of  herbage  greets  us  from  these  clinging  gardens. 
They  were  a  part,  probably,  of  the  grounds  of  the  castle.  Here  sat 
Cortez  and  enjoyed  their  fragrant  breath,  unless,  like  his  succes- 
sors, he  preferred  to  enjoy  that  of  his  cigar.  Here  he  plotted  to  re- 
turn to  power ;  annoyed  those  who  ruled  after  him  and  over  him  ; 
got  up  expeditions  to  Honduras  and  California  at  immense  loss  of 
life,  money,  and  almost  fame,  including  among  his  losses  that  of  the 
four  grand  emeralds,  the  holding  on  to  which  too  closely  caused  his 
first  and  chiefest  loss :  that  of  the  city  he  conquered  and  the  gov- 
ernment he  craved.  The  emeralds  were  lost  in  the  Mediterranean, 
on  an  expedition  to  Africa  with  Gonzalez.  If  any  body  doubts  it, 
let  him  go  and  pick  them  up.  In  his  case,  as  in  so  many  others,  it 
was  proved  that 

"Quiet  to  quick  bosoms  is  a  hell." 

This  exquisite  valley,  this  lordly  castle  that  has  such  "  a  pleasant 
seat,"  the  thirty  cities  that  paid  tribute  to  him,  the  wife  and  children 
that  revered  him,  the  fame  he  had  won  and  never  lost,  all  these 
were  nothing  to  "  the  hungry  heart "  that  set  him  a-wandering  even 
to  his  grave. 

Let  us  get  into  these  delectable  bowers  at  the  foot  of  the  palace, 
where  they  rest  and  toil  contented  to  this  day,  the  self-same  sort 
that  rested  and  toiled  contented  in  his  day. 

The  debate  as  to  the  superiority  of  nature  or  art  would  never 
arise  if  you  walked  through  the  Empress's  Garden,  and  then  through 
that  of  the  Indos.  These  lanes  are  as  beautiful  as  England's,  and 
that  is  giving  them  the  highest  praise.  More  beautiful  in  all  save 
the  dwellings  of  the  people,  and  not  much  less  so  in  that  particu- 
lar, for  neither  land  lifts  its  peasant  to  his  proper  seat.  Trees  of 
every  known  and  unknown  sort  line  the  roadway. 


242  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

How  would  you  "  get  on  "  if,  inquiring  of  a  gardener  the  name 
of  a  certain  tree,  he  should  generously  and  abundantly  reply  :  "  Esta 
es  la  zapote  amarylla,  esta  zapote  chico,  esta  el  mango,  esta  la 
Diamine,  esta  huave,"  and,  pointing  to  the  most  beautiful  of  all, 
"esta  coculi  sutchel?"  You  would  delight  in  recovering  your  En- 
glish and  your  senses  by  saying  "That  is  the  ash."  And  as  hand- 
some as  any  is  the  ash,  grand  and  green  above  its  fellow  of  the 
North.  Yet  these  trees  are  worth  praising,  and  the  flowers,  espe- 
cially that  of  the  odd  name,  "cocoli  sutchel."  It  is  a  bouquet  of 
fragrance  and  beauty  unsurpassed.  It  grows  at  the  end  of  tall, 
gnarled,  homely  boughs  and  trunk,  a  dozen  separate  flowers,  each 
as  large  as  the  largest  pinks,  but  of  few  petals.  Red  and  white,  it 
crowns  this  homely  tree,  a  perfect  vegetable  beauty  and  beast. 

Magnificent  roses  blossom  by  the  wayside,  blush,  crimson,  white, 
as  sweet-smelling  as  their  best  brothers  next  June  in  New  York, 
and  finer  of  tint  and  body  than  any  you  will  meet  there  and  then. 
Oleanders  hang  out  their  blazon,  and  huge  white  lilies  depend  par- 
asitically  from  appropriated  boughs.  The  orange  bears  its  three- 
fold burden  of  flower,  and  green,  and  yellow  fruit.  One  bunch  of 
eight  big  yellow  boys  on  a  single  stem  is  bought  for  four  cents, 
and  sent  with  the  regards  of  the  wife  of  the  consul-general  to  the 
wife  of  Dr.  Butler — a  present,  like  all  the  best  gifts,  valued  much 
above  its  cost. 

Brooklets  trickle  by  the  roadside,  and  banana  groves  stand  thick 
and  tall  as  Illinois  corn,  thicker,  if  not  taller,  with  bunches  of  fruit, 
and  purple  flower-buds  big  as  pine-apples,  and  like  them  in  shape. 

Two  children  are  playing  bull -fight  in  the  street,  the  boy  on 
horseback,  astride  a  stick,  varying  that  Yankee-boy  pleasure  with 
throwing  a  lasso  around  the  neck  of  a  younger  brother,  who  fol- 
lows him  around,  bellowing  and  bullying.  They  laugh  in  wild  glee 
over  the  childish  imitation. 

A  school  in  these  bowers  keeps  up  the  noisy  rattle  of  studying 
aloud,  the  tinkling  bell  not  suppressing  but  encouraging  the  tu- 
mult. It  was  amusing,  in  one  of  these  schools,  to  see  how  some 
boys  showed  their  assiduity  in  study,  on   the  presence   of  these 


SUGAR  MANUFACTURE.  243 

strange  visitors,  by  a  great  increase  of  their  volubility.  Schools  are 
everywhere,  and  these  poor  people  can  read  and  write  very  well, 
but  have  not  any  thing  to  read,  and  no  occasion  to  write. 

They  are  catching  zapote  from  a  tall  tree,  and  I  learn  how  to 
gather  nice  apples  and  peaches  without  a  basket,  or  without  hurt- 
ing them.  A  boy  far  up  in  the  tree  picks  the  fruit,  and  cries  out, 
■■  Vaminos"  (here  we  go).  A  man  below  holds  his  blanket,  or  ze- 
rape,  and  catches  the  apple-shaped  zapote,  and  rolls  it  easily  upon 
the  ground.  The  cry,  the  catch,  the  roll  are  instantaneous.  It 
will  be  well  to  copy  this  in  other  orchards. 

The  emperor  had  a  garden  here  also,  given  him  by  the  Indians, 
with  their  centavos,  tlaquas,  or  cent-and-a-half  pieces,  and  cuartillias 
(I  spell  these  phonographically),  or  three-cent  bits.  A  cottage  was 
nearly  finished,  but  never  occupied,  the  veranda  opening  on  a  bath. 
It  was  a  spot  of  luxurious  idleness.  He  liked  to  come  here  and 
hide  from  the  cares  of  state.  In  a  little  school-room  near  the 
church,  in  the  farther  of  the  two  school  districts,  he  gave  a  ball  to 
the  natives.  They  hold  his  memory  dear  ;  the  only  place  in  Mex- 
ico that  it  is  thus  esteemed.  His  garden  is  fast  becoming  a  deso- 
lation, and  ere  many  years  his  brick,  open,  unfinished  cottage  will 
be  buried  under  this  abounding  life. 

A  sugar  hacienda  completed  our  Cuernervaca  experiences.  It 
is  four  miles  from  town.  Horses  carry  us  easily  hither  over  a 
road  impassable  to  carriages.  High  walls  and  strong  inclose  the 
court-yard  of  the  hacienda.  Indian  workmen  have  their  cane-huts 
just  outside.  Inside  the  wife  of  the  administrador  welcomes  us 
gracefully,  and  offers  coffee,  chocolate,  cognac,  and  cold  water. 
We  accept  the  last  and  best.     She  takes  us  round  the  works. 

The  first  apartment  is  devoted  to  grinding  the  cane,  which  is 
crushed  between  heavy  rollers,  the  husk  passing  out,  literally 
squeezed  to  death,  the  juice  running  a  steady  stream,  of  the  vol- 
ume seen  in  an  open  water-spout  in  a  steady  rain,  along  channels 
or  troughs  to  vats  in  the  next  compartment.  Then  it  passes  into 
boilers  about  ten  feet  deep,  four  feet  of  copper,  two  of  brick,  and 
four  of  wood.     The  copper  only  holds  the  liquid  ;  the  upper  part, 


244  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

opening  widely,  is  for  the  froth  and  scum,  good  and  evil,  to  disport 
in.  The  boilers  under  fire  are  filled  to  the  brim  with  this  bub- 
bling, which  is  constantly  skimmed  by  workmen,  with  flat  skim- 
mers half  a  yard  across.  They  deposit  their  refuse  in  a  trough 
running  along  the  front  of  the  boilers,  and  this  flows  into  other  re- 
ceptacles, to  be  distilled  into  the  rum  of  the  country.  So  the  bane 
becomes  more  baneful  by  the  banefulness  of  man. 

The  sirup  is  taken  to  other  boilers,  where  it  is  condensed  yet 
more,  and  is  ladled  into  large  earthen  jars  two  feet  long,  of  conical 
shape,  with  a  hole  in  the  bottom.  These  jars  are  set  on  earthen 
pots  after  a  certain  crystallization  is  attained,  and  the  hole  opened 
to  let  the  uncrystallized  centre  drip  away.  They  are  covered  with 
a  blue  clay,  or  marl,  which  is  prepared  carefully  in  a  semi-liquid 
form  ;  too  liquid,  it  would  permeate  the  sugar ;  too  dry,  not  affect 
it.  This  black  mud  absorbs  the  yellow  color,  and  makes  the  mu- 
latto white,  not  the  usual  result  of  mixing  black  and  yellow  togeth- 
er. The  white  is  a  little  dingy,  and  Mexican  sugar  is  not  as  white 
as  the  American,  they  not  using  sufficiently  powerful  absorbents. 

These  loaves  of  sugar,  the  shape  and  size  of  the  jars,  weigh  an 
aroba,  or  twenty-five  pounds.  Each  donkey  or  mule  has  twelve  of 
these  put  on  his  back,  three  hundred -weight,  and  marches  off  to 
Mexico  with  his  burden.  You  meet  hundreds  of  mules  thus  load- 
ed. When  a  civil  engineer  said  to  an  administrador  of  a  hacienda 
that  railroads  would  cheapen  freight,  he  replied  he  got  his  freight- 
ing for  less  than  nothing  now.  "  How  so  ?"  "  My  mules  I  raise, 
and  their  feed  costs  nothing.  I  give  the  driver  two  reals  a  day, 
and  he  buys  his  necessities  at  my  store,  on  which  I  make  a  profit 
of  a  real  above  what  I  pay  him.  How  is  the  railroad  to  help 
me?" 

But  it  will  help  the  two-real  laborer,  and  give  him  more  money 
and  better  chance  for  its  investment. 

The  corn-husks  are  dragged  into  the  court,  spread,  dried,  and 
used  for  fuel  the  next  day.  The  fuel  ready  for  to-morrow's  burn- 
ing was  twenty  feet  high  and  wide,  and  two  hundred  feet  long,  the 
refuse  of  a  single  day.     The  clay,  after  serving  as  an  absorbent,  is 


A   HACIENDA'S    YIELD. 


245 


:.■■< 


SAW-MILL. 


Wl 


used  for  compost,  the  field   being  en-     "  '  .^4'|f>^i4^  '  ^" 


riched  with  its  own  sweetness,  and  the     ^I^^^^ksw^'*:' 
husk  boiling  its  own  juices.     A  chapel  ;^'/'-- 

is  connected  with  the  hacienda,  and  will  '-, ,    -f    .  ".." 

be  a  good  place  for  a  Protestant  meet- 
ing one  of  these  clays. 

This  hacienda  belonged,  it  is  said,  to  Cortez,  and  is  now  owned 
by  the  Duke  de  Monteleone,  who  is  said  to  be  his  descendant.  It 
yields  thirty  thousand  arobas,  or  seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
pounds  annually,  worth  ten  cents  a  pound  on  the  premises,  or  sev- 
enty-five thousand  dollars  a  year.  The  workmen  ought  to  have 
over  twenty-five  cents  a  day.  Some  of  them,  it  is  said,  get  fifty  to 
seventy-five  cents.  But  of  this  there  is  doubt.  The  only  thing 
that  is  cheap  here  is  man. 

Our  lady  guide  is  thanked  much  for  her  valuable  guidance,  and 
we  canter  home  amidst  a  glowing  sunset.  The  mountains  are 
cones  of  gorgeous  color,  and  the   clouds   arc  redolent  of  flame. 


246  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

The  clear,  delightful  Indian  paradise  of  fruit  and  blossom  is  trav- 
ersed, none  the  less  agreeable  in  this  setting. 

But  another  setting  is  here,  of  life,  as  of  the  sun.  The  two  lit- 
tle bells  of  the  little  church  are  chattering  quaintly,  a  half-way  be- 
tween a  toll  and  a  ring.  A  company  of  white-dressed  peasants 
are  busily  shoveling  earth  in  the  yard.  Women,  in  blue  and  brown 
and  black,  are  in  the  rear  of  these  working-men,  lamenting  loudly. 
"What  is  it?"  we  ask  our  guide.  "A  funeral!"  is  his  short  and 
sad  reply.  The  bells  clang  and  moan  rapidly,  the  women  moan, 
and  the  men,  as  sad  as  either,  sternly  obey  that  unwelcome  order 
of  nature,  and  bury  their  dead  out  of  their  sight. 

It  was  a  painful  conclusion  of  a  gala  clay.  What  does  all  this 
overflowing  of  life  in  tree  and  plant  avail,  if  death  is  here  ?  What 
this  luxurious,  idle  ecstasy  of  being,  if  it  ends  thus?  Ah,  well, 
there's  a  better  side  even  here.  This  despised  peon  is  made  ma- 
jestic by  "long-stretching  death."  He  is  now  the  equal  of  the 
duke  and  marquis  that  have  lorded  it  over  him  so  long  and  so 
haughtily.  Oh,  how  one  wished  for  power  to  speak  to  these  breth- 
ren in  a  common  sin  and  common  grave,  of  a  common  deliverance 
from  both  sin  and  the  grave  !  Out  of  their  own  ranks  the  preach- 
ers are  coming  that  shall  speak  the  comforting  experience,  "  Mourn 
not  as  others  which  have  no  hope." 

I  found  a  proof  of  this  that  very  evening  in  visiting  the  saloon 
where  a  congregation  is  gathered  through  the  labors  of  Dr.  Riley. 
About  forty  attend  worship.  It  is  growing  gradually,  and  will,  I 
trust,  ere  long  be  a  power  in  all  this  region. 

At  four  in  the  morning  we  leave  this  garden-spot.  Rattling  up- 
ward, we  soon  enter  a  colder  clime.  Still  up  and  still  colder,  so 
that  blanket  shawls  and  shivers  are  our  portion.  And  the  noon 
rest  is  employed  in  sunning  one's  self  on  the  south  side  of  the 
house,  among  the  pigs  and  poultry,  who  always  know  the  best  place 
for  comfort. 

An  hour  later  and  the  descent  into  the  Mexic  valley  relieves  us 
of  shawls  and  zempes,  and  in  two  hours  we  are  sweltering  in  sum- 
mer heat ;  so  easily  do  extremes  meet  in  this  extreme  country. 


THE  RETURN  TO    THE  CITY.  247 

We  look  down  on  the  sea  of  glass,  mingled  with  fire,  which  blazes 
over  half  the  valley;  the  sea  of  glass,  mingled  with  green,  which 
covers  more  beautifully  the  other  portions.  The  majestic  snow- 
peaks  shine  forth  their  clearest  and  brightest.  A  Mexican  saw- 
mill, off  the  road,  but  near  the  city,  affords  a  quaint  sight.  The 
Spaniards  stripped  the  plains  and  nearer  mountains  of  wood,  and 
so  there  is  no  need  to-day  of  a  more  expensive  mill  than  the  old- 
fashioned  handsaw  pulled  lazily  along  an  occasional  log.  Our 
steam  saw-mill  rapacity  will  soon  effect  a  like  result  in  our  own 
land.     Popocatepetl  looks  quietly  down  on  the  quiet  sawyer. 


m 


PLANTING   CORN. 


Down  we  hasten  to  the  level  plains  and  straight  roads  ;  past 
Cherubusco,  a  flat  field  with  a  big  church,  around  which  the  battle 
raged ;  past  the  beautiful  hacienda  of  San  Juan  de  Dios  (how 
pious  are  these  names  !),  where  men  are  planting  corn  in  long  rows, 
dressed  all  in  white  as  snowy  as  the  White  Woman  above  them, 
a  quaint  procession — "there  are  forty  hoeing  like  one" — over  the 
long,  shaded,  half-well-roaded  paseos,  into  busy  burning  Mexico. 
The  city  shows  off  best  on  this  entrance,  stretching  wide  and 
churchly  along  the  open  space.  We  have  had  all  extremes  in  half 
a  dozen  hours.  Our  Garden  in  Eden  is  behind  us.  Our  northern 
and  better  paradise  before.      Let  us  go. 


24g  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


XII. 

LAST  WALK  LN  MEXICO. 

The  Market-place. — The  Murder-place. — Mexic  Art  and  Music. — Aquarius. — 
Ruins,  and  how  they  were  made. — A  Funeral. — San  Fernando  Cemetery. — 
The  English  and  American  also. — Vaminos. 

The  time  draws  near  to  leave  this  pleasant  seat.  The  object 
of  coming  is  so  nearly  completed  that  it  can  be  safely  intrusted  to 
other  hands.  The  beautiful  cloisters  of  San  Francisco,  for  which 
negotiations  have  been  going  forward  for  two  months,  are  so  near- 
ly ours  that  the  risks  of  losing  them  are  reduced  to  a  minimum. 
The  four  parties  holding  claims  upon  them  are  all  disposed  of  but 
one,  the  lessee,  and  the  church  has  to  take  the  risk  of  him,  and  for 
two  months  holds  the  titles  of  a  theatre.  But  the  wet  season  ex- 
hausts his  vitality,  and  he  follows  his  fellows,  and  leaves  the  prop- 
erty for  its  proper  occupants.  Dr.  Butler,  the  superintendent,  ar- 
rives, and  the  route  homeward  begins  to  open. 

Walks  must  be  frequent  now,  if  we  would  see  all  the  town,  and 
even  then,  as  in  all  towns,  much  will  be  left  unseen. 

Let  us  go  to  the  market-place.*  This  is  usually  the  heart  of  the 
town.  Here  it  is  no  exception.  It  comes  close  up  to  the  palace 
and  the  plaza,  being  at  the  south-west  end  of  the  latter.  It  is 
made  by  the  ending  of  the  canal  system  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
city.  The  canal  makes  the  vegetable  market,  and  that  makes  all 
the  rest.  It  is  the  busiest  hive  of  a  market-place  I  ever  saw.  No 
European  plaza,  except  on  fair-days,  no  Baltimore  street  centre  of 
a  morning,  or  Cincinnati  of  a  night,  equals  the  crowd  and  chatter 
and  push  of  this  lively  spot  at  almost  every  hour  of  the  clay.  The 
boats'  prows  stuck  in  among  the  shops  and  stalls  add  to  the  excite- 
ment.    Sunday  morning  is  their  fair,  and  such  a  crush  and  hubbub 

*  See  illustration,  p.  112. 


IN  THE  MARKET. 


249 


are  then  encountered  here  as  would  forever  cure  the  most  radical 
anti  -  Sabbatarian  of  his  desire  to  show  his  independence  of  the 
Scriptures  by  a  desecration  of  the  sacred  day. 

As  one  has  to  go  through  it  on  his  way  to  one  of  our  churches, 
he  gets  a  glimpse  of  its  desecration  in  spite  of  himself.  Each  vo- 
cation has  its  allotted  place.  One  narrow  avenue  is  filled  with 
coffin  -  makers,  driving  a  brisk  trade  with  their  black  boards,  for 
black  is  the  color  of  your  "  wooden  jacket  "  in  Mexico.  A  dozen 
shops  and  several  dozen  workmen  make  this  dismal  trade  hilarious. 


SCENE    IN    MARKET. 

Another  long  alley  is  appropriated  to  the  eating  business,  and 
great  stew-pans  over  handfuls  of  coals  keep  hot  the  flesh -soups 
and  bones  ;  while  on  the  ground  around  sit  groups  of  eaters,  dip- 
ping their  bread  in  the  sop  or  sipping  chocolate  or  coffee,  each  of 
which  beverages  they  know  how  to  compound  excellently  well. 

Across  the  town  we  find  another  plaza,  less  noisy  daily,  but 
which  has  seen  greater  crowds  and  heard  greater  noises  than  even 

i7 


25o  OCR   AEXT-DOOR   NEIGHBOR. 

this  noisiest  and  densest  of  markets.  Pass  down  the  Street  of  the 
Silversmiths  to  the  Church  of  the  Profesa,  from  whose  top  and 
whose  street-corner  we  first  contemplated  the  city.  It  is  a  majes- 
tic, cooling  edifice.  Its  high  roof  and  darkened  light  makes  it  one 
of  the  pleasantest  of  temples.  Leave  that  and  go  straight  across 
to  the  eastern  side  of  the  town.  Behind  the  cathedral,  half  a 
mile  away,  you  will  see  a  long  narrow  square.  On  one  side  now  is 
the  custom-house  ;  at  its  lower  end  is  a  church,  with  its  high  fence. 
Before  it  are  big  wagons,  with  their  triple  set  of  mules  resting  by 
their  side,  and  their  dark  muleteers  lying  beneath  the  wagons. 

In  the  centre  of  this  square  not  many  years  ago  stood  an  iron 
post.  A  dead  wall  on  the  side  opposite  the  custom-house  shows' 
many  a  break  in  its  surface,  the  size  of  a  finger-end  or  larger.  If, 
now,  I  were  Victor  Hugo,  I  should  strike  an  attitude,  and  begin  to 
make  up  the  surprises.  What  mean  these  preparatory  strokes? 
That  now  tame -looking  building,  which  the  government  officials 
occupy,  was  once  the  Convent  of  Santo  Domingo :  that  church 
fronting  us  was  the  temple  of  that  name. 

Still  no  light  ?  he  would  say,  in  a  line  by  itself. 

The  order  of  Saint  Dominic  had  the  Inquisition  in  charge.  Ah 
yes  !  now  it  begins  to  glimmer.  That  mass  of  buildings  was  the 
dungeon  of  the  church.  There  its  victims  were  confined,  tried, 
racked,  and  killed,  save  such  as  were  reserved  for  the  extremest 
punishment  of  fire.  That  church  was  where  its  priests  and  prel- 
ates performed  their  stately  services.  That  iron  pillar  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  place,  where  the  mule-wagons  are,  was  where  the  burn- 
ings took  place,  for  the  repression  of  heresy.  Mr.  Black,  long  con- 
sul-general, a  venerable  gentleman  of  seventy,  told  me  he  saw  the 
pillar  when  he  first  came  here  some  fifty  years  ago,  and  its  use  for 
such  purpose  was  never  then  denied.  The  Inquisition  was  then 
in  full  power,  and  had  its  authority  been  questioned,  or  that  of  the 
Church,  its  fires  would  have  been  relighted  in  this  place. 

A  few  years  since,  in  digging  away  some  of  these  buildings  to 
open  and  widen  the  streets,  a  prison  was  discovered  in  which  four 
skeletons  were  found  as  they  had  been  left  to  starve  by  their  sa- 


SHORT  SHRIFT.  251 

cred  superiors  of  the  convent  and  the  true  faith.  Before  they  fell 
into  dust  their  photograph  was  taken.  It  is  a  dreadful  grave-stone 
of  a  dead  system — dead,  not  because  of  its  own  desire  to  die,  not 
because  its  managers  had  outgrown  it,  and  voluntarily  abandoned 
it,  but  because  a  power  had  grown  up  around  and  above  it  that 
compelled  its  abolition.  It  would  break  forth  to-day  had  its 
Church  her  former  power.  It  only  awaits  growth  and  opportu- 
nity to  reproduce  the  starved  inmates  of  an  inwalled  cell  and  the 
stake  of  fire.     Such  opportunity  only  Christianity  can  prevent* 

The  fagot  and  the  dungeon  are  gone,  but  the  purpose  remains. 
The  power  alone  is  wanting.  No  one  would  sooner  light  these 
fires  over  all  the  earth  than  the  Infallible  God  now  mumbling  in 
the  Vatican,  or  his  chief-priests  in  Mexico.  The  murder  of  Ste- 
vens, the  name  and  fate  of  the  protomartyr,  was  caused  and  is  ap- 
proved by  the  Church.  A  priest  demanded  it.  No  bishop  or  arch- 
bishop has  disapproved  it.  No  government,  city,  state,  or  national, 
dares  punish  the  murderers.  They  are  as  safe  as  were  those  of  the 
first  Stephen  from  the  Caiaphas  and  Herod  of  that  clay.  Truly 
can  we  say  of  Christianity  what  Madame  Roland  said  of  liberty, 
"  Oh,  Christianity  !  what  crimes  are  committed  in  thy  name  !" 

But  what  are  those  spots  on  the  wall  ? 

They  are  where  the  balls,  fired  at  criminals  and  revolutionists 
who  were  clone  to  the  death  on  this  square,  missed  the  victims  and 
struck  the  wall  behind  them.  It  is  the  government  place  of  exe- 
cution to  this  day.  The  shrive  is  short  between  conviction  and 
death.  A  few  hours  and  the  criminal  or  innocent  one,  if  con- 
demned, is  marched  hither,  set  up  against  the  wall,  and  shot  out 
of  the  body.  All  crimes  have  one  punishment.  Murder,  robbery, 
kidnaping,  horse-stealing,  treason,  revolution,  almost  petty  larceny, 
receives  swift  verdict  and  execution.  The  place  is  ghostly  in  the 
bustle  of  midday.     Let  us  away  to  more  cheerful  sights. 

One  thing  surprised  me  above  all  others  in  Mexico:  its  attain- 
ment and  progress  in  art. 

Come  clown  below  the  plaza,  by  the  eastern  side  of  the  palace 


*  See  illustrations,  pages  186,  188. 


252  OUR   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

and  the  post-office,  and  you  see  a  large  building  devoted  to  art. 
The  galleries  are  longer  and  fuller  than  any  others  on  this  conti- 
nent. New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  Boston  are  far  below  Mexico 
In  these  treasures.  They  occupy  some  eight  or  ten  long  rooms, 
and  are  of  every  age  from  the  time  of  the  conquest  until  now. 
Not  a  few  of  them  are  of  much  merit.  They  even  claim  Murillos 
among  the  spoils  of  the  convents  that  have  been  transferred  hither. 

Modern  art  is  not  wanting,  nor  inferior.  Seldom  can  you  see 
on  European  walls  more  vigorous  paintings  than  those  of  Noah 
and  his  family  receiving  the  dove.  It  is  a  remarkable  set  of  fig- 
ures, every  one  a  study,  every  one  a  life.  Columbus  contemplating 
the  sea  is  a  superb  piece  of  work.  Dante  and  Virgil  looking  into 
hell  is  awfully  vivid.  Mr.  Seward  expressed  a  desire  for  a  copy 
of  this  masterly  work.  Several  Ishmaels  and  Hagars  are  on  the 
walls.  It  seems  a  favorite  theme.  Best  of  all,  for  drawing  and  ef- 
fective handling  of  colors,  is  the  Dead  Monk.  Rembrandt  rare- 
ly exceeded  it.  A  group  of  monks  hang  over  a  dead  brother. 
Their  gray  cowls  and  robes,  their  scared  and  skeleton  faces,  their 
lights  dimly  glowing  from  the  tapers  in  their  hands,  which  are  the 
only  illumination  of  the  room,  and  the  dead  prone  in  the  midst  the 
only  calm  one  ;  these  make  a  ghastly  picture  of  great  power  and 
tenderness. 

The  galleries  of  sculpture  are  less  advanced.  Most  of  the 
groups  are  in  plaster,  money  being  wanted  to  put  them  into  stone. 

What  is  better  than  the  galleries  is  the  school  of  art.  You  see 
in  several  rooms,  as  you  pass  through  and  along  the  corridors,  quite 
a  string  of  youths,  bending  over  their  drawing-books  and  canvas. 
They  are  fine-looking  lads  of  all  shades  and  blood  :  Spanish,  Az- 
tec, and  all  between.  They  have  as  instructors  the  best  artists  of 
the  city,  and  they  are  worthy  of  the  time  and  cost  lavished  upon 
them.  When  shall  our  America  give  her  lads  equal  opportunity? 
The  best  artists  of  our  chief  cities  would  be  glad  to  render  such 
service,  and  many  a  noble  youth  would  be  glad  to  have  it  ren- 
dered. What  school  board  will  be  the  first  to  open  a  real  school 
of  art  ?     When  that  is  done,  we  shall  find  our  starveling  galleries 


THE  AZTEC  BAND.  253 

growing  to  fair  and  full  proportions,  and  our  larger  and  smaller 
cities  alike  enjoying  real  genius,  expressed  in  real  forms  of  art. 

That  there  is  a  desire  for  this,  the  feeble  attempts  of  girls'  board- 
ing-schools and  the  sometimes  successful  struggles  of  young  men, 
bear  abundant  evidence.  Could  these  girls  have  competent  teach- 
ers, and  these  boys  fair  educational  opportunities,  there  would  be 
as  grand  an  accession  to  our  artistic  force,  as  our  musical  conserv- 
atories, under  the  best  professors  of  that  art,  have  added  to  our 
musical  culture.  By  as  much  as  a  permanent  picture  surpasses  a 
burst  of  song,  by  so  much  will  the  school  of  painting  excel  that  of 
music.     Who  will  start  a  conservatory  of  art? 

The  Aztec  does  not  neglect  music.  If  you  will  come  to  the 
plaza  on  one  of  these  superb  moonlight  nights,  when  it  seems  as 
if  the  purity  of  the  atmosphere  brought  you  nigh  the  silver  orb 
(perhaps  it  is  the  silvery  soil  that  does  it),  and  the  air  is  full  of 
tremulous  lustre.  The  brown  Indian  band  take  their  stand  on  the 
raised  round  centre  of  the  square.  There  is  not  a  white,  hardly  a 
mixed  blood  among  them.  Pure  Aztecs  these.  They  begin.  Did 
you  ever  hear  more  delicate  notes,  more  softly  rendered?  The 
combinations  are  equally  rich.  They  are  not  mere  melody,  but 
masterly  intervolutions  of  harmony.  Their  touch  is  soft,  and  swift, 
and  strong.  They  catch  the  soul  of  the  music,  and  bring  it  palpi- 
tating before  you.  The  moon  seems  to  shed  a  directer  ray.  No 
Venetian  night  on  the  Plaza  of  San  Marco  ever  excels  these  torrid- 
temperate  perfections  of  moonlight  and  melody.  The  pieces  are 
not  familiar,  and,  I  reckon,  are  original.  If  they  are,  then  the  two- 
fold gift  of  utterance  and  composition  is  theirs.  The  band  would 
have  won  loudest  applause  if  it  had  appeared  at  the  Jubilee.  Let 
Gilmore  remember  them  in  his  Centennial  Reunion,  when  all  the 
world  shall  gather  in  Philadelphia,  and  he  shall  bring  forth  his 
bands  and  choruses  for  their  delight.  The  Aztec  band  of  Mexico 
will  make  French  and  German,  English  and  Yankee,  look  to  their 
laurels. 

The  schools  of  the  city  are  in  some  respects  superior  to  those 
of  America.     A  large  number  of  these  are  kept  up  by  the  Free- 


z54  OCR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

masons.  One  of  these  I  visited,  in  an  old  convent,  which  was 
granted  it  by  the  State.  The  scholars  were  taught  French  from 
cards  hung  round  the  room,  and  primers,  and  petite  story-books. 
( >ur  schools  could  and  should  make  the  youngest  children  conver- 
sant with  this  and  the  German  language.  It  is  far  better  to  learn 
a  language,  which  a  child  can  easily  learn  to  speak  and  read,  than 
to  study  gram  mar,  which  an  adult  rarely  knows,  and  which  it  is 
impossible  for  a  child  to  understand. 

Here,  too,  all  the  girls  study  book-keeping.  Their  penmanship 
is  exquisite,  and  they  will  thus  get  openings  to  fields  of  labor  hith- 
erto denied  them.  They  also  are  taught  needle-work,  and  so  made 
useful  for  the  old  as  well  as  the  new.  Over  three  thousand  pupils 
are  studying  English  in  the  public  and  private  schools.  That  is  a 
sign  of  the  influence  of  our  language.  The  French  has  fallen  out 
of  favor  since  their  invasion  of  the  country.  Our  invasion  seems 
to  have  made  our  tongue  the  more  popular.  It  is  probably  be- 
cause of  the  diffusion  of  this  language,  and  the  consciousness  of  its 
growing  superiority  as  a  world-tongue,  and  especially  because  of 
its  utility  as  a  neighbor-tongue,  that  it  has  such  pre-eminence  in 
these  public  schools. 

The  city  has  a  school  of  mines,  with  abundant  specimens  of  the 
wonderful  treasures  of  the  country.  It  has  also  marble  works, 
where  you  see  the  rare  marbles  of  the  land,  translucent,  transpar- 
ent almost,  full  of  as  rich  variations  as  a  polished  mahogany  knot; 
a  future  article  of  great  commercial  value. 

As  we  are  walking,  you  notice  that  man  with  a  double  burden, 
a  strap  going  over  his  head  in  such  a  way  that  he  carries  a  big  jar 
before  him  and  a  bigger  vase  behind.  He  is  the  water-carrier — 
the  institution  of  the  city  next  to  the  lottery-ticket  vender.  The 
aqueducts  flow  into  cisterns,  like  that  of  Vera  Cruz,  situated  in  the 
courts  of  houses  ;  not  every  house,  but  as  frequently  as  hydrants 
in  our  cities.  These  aquarii  take  the  water  from  these  reservoirs 
and  carry  it  from  door  to  door.  A  cuartillia  a  day,  or  a  few  tlaquas, 
will  supply  a  family  its  daily  need.  His  business  is  steady.  De- 
sierto  comes  thus  to  town,  and  its  purveyors  carry  it  to  every  door. 


THE   OPENING   OF  STREETS. 


255 


One  thing  strikes  us  in 
all  this  walk  over  the  city 
— the  multiplicity  of  ruins. 
It  is  as  full  of  ruins  as 
Rome  or  Jerusalem.  Great 
dust-heaps  of  vanished  pop- 
ulations are  on  the  northern 
borders.  Cleft  walls  high 
and  thick  are  all  through 
the  main  thoroughfares. 
This  is  a  feature  of  Mexico 
which  did  not  exist  twenty 
years  ago.  Then  there  were 
no  ruins,  except  those  of  lib- 
ertv  and  religion.  The  fall 
of  the  Church  as  a  political 
governing  power  cut  open 
the  streets  and  laid  low  the 
convents.     Comonfort  initi-  A  water-carrier. 

ated  this  work.  The  American  war  had  left  the  Bible  and  the 
light  of  Protestant  Christianity  to  leaven  the  hard  lump  of  antique 
superstition.  It  showed  its  leavening  influence  first  in  the  opening 
of  streets.  At  that  time  a  large  number  of  monasteries  existed  in 
the  city.  They  covered  from  five  to  twenty  acres.  Of  course  they 
crossed  the  main  thoroughfares  everywhere,  and  interfered  badly 
with  the  city's  progress.  They  possessed  gardens,  parks,  deep 
arcades  around  marble-pillared  patios,  dormitories,  libraries,  chap- 
els, and  magnificent  churches.  Their  very  halls  of  flagellation 
were  richly  bedight. 

The  convents  St.  Augustine,  St.  Dominic,  and  many  others,  were 
first  emptied  of  their  occupants.  Friars  and  nuns  were  objects  of 
ridicule.  And  then,  if  new  streets  were  needed,  the  buildings  were 
cut  in  twain.  The  chief  of  these  was  the  Convent  of  San  Francisco. 
It  was  the  oldest  and  richest.  None  covered  so  large  a  space,  or 
was  so  variedly  and  richly  endowed.      It  was  founded  by  a  natural 


256  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

son  of  Charles  V.,  and  held  for  centuries  the  chief  place  in  the  re- 
gards of  the  citizens.  It  crossed  the  street  parallel  with  the  main 
thoroughfare.  Comonfort  desired  to  cut  his  way  through  it.  The 
archbishop  refused.  It  was  sacred  soil.  We  all  know  how  tena- 
cious some  in  our  own  land  have  been  of  sacred  soil.  That  was 
sacredly  sacred.  The  State  demanded  passage.  The  Church  re- 
fused. The  State  prepared  to  force  it.  The  Church  prepared  to 
poison  or  stiletto  the  State.  Each  chief  chose  his  appropriate 
weapons.  But  one  clay,  before  the  Church  had  arranged  to  stop 
the  State  by  stopping  the  breath  of  its  chief,  Comonfort  cut  his 
way  through,  and  called  the  street  "Calle  de  Independenzia"  (the 
Street  of  Independence). 

The  convent  was  cut  in  twain,  like  the  vail  of  the  Temple,  from 
the  top  to  the  bottom.  The  old  dispensation  closed,  the  new  be- 
gan. Ten  years  passed,  and  all  convents,  and  even  churches,  pass- 
ed into  the  power  of  the  State,  and  the  city  was  full  of  ruins  of  a 
system  and  of  its  dwelling-places. 

Part  of  this  convent  is  occupied  by  the  Church  of  Jesus,  the  first 
Protestant  chapel  in  Mexico.  The  church  is  to  be  occupied  by 
the  same  society.  The  cloisters  have  come  into  possession  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  and  have  been  fitted  up  for  a  chapel. 
The  deep  arcades  are  shut  out  by  hangings,  and  the  area  alone  is 
appropriated  to  church  uses.  The  exquisite  pillars  of  polished 
stone  are  more  beautiful  than  the  spiral  columns  of  the  cloisters 
of  San  Juan  de  Lateran  at  Rome.  It  is  said  to  be  a  remnant  of 
Montezuma's  palace.  Its  delicacy  and  richness  seem  more  Euro- 
pean than  Aztec.     It  is  a  worthy  temple  for  the  better  faith. 

Our  long  and  varied  walk  must  come  to  an  end.  Where  can  it 
end  more  appropriately  than  where  all  walks  end — at  the  grave? 
Do  you  see  that  procession  ?  Strangely  enough,  the  hearse  follows 
the  coffin.  The  body  is  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  men.  Why  is 
this?  It  is  a" custom  de  la  pais"  as  they  say  here,  a  custom  of  the 
country.  To  show  their  regard  for  the  departed,  they  take  the 
body  on  their  own  shoulders  forth  to  burial.  It  is  a  very  plaintive 
and  pretty  custom. 


A   REMINISCENCE   OF  1824.  257 

One  death  I  witnessed.  Mr.  Heaven,  an  Englishman  long  in  the 
country,  with  a  native  wife,  was  gasping  his  last  as  I  called  with 
Dr.  Cooper  to  see  him.  He  remembered  then  his  home  faith. 
Asking  him  if  his  feet  were  on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  he  replied,  "  Yes  ! 
Not  on  the  rock  of  Peter." 

The  next  day  we  took  him  to  the  English  cemetery.  The  sun 
shone  bright  and  warm  ;  the  fields  looked  green  and  glad  ;  gerani- 
ums in  abundance  reddened  the  parks  with  their  blossoms.  The 
trees  were  leafy  as  in  June  ;  every  thing  was  alive  but  this  man, 
who  is  of  the  head  of  every  thing. 

No  female  member  of  the  family  appeared  at  the  house  or  the 
grave.  Four  servants  of  the  undertaker  carried  out  his  body,  fol- 
lowed by  three  ministers  and  one  Methodist  layman.  Carriages 
took  the  gentlemen  friends  to  the  cemetery,  and  there  a  large  crowd 
listened  to  the  impressive  service,  most  of  whom  probably  had  nev- 
er before  heard  Scriptures  read  or  prayers  offered  in  their  own  lan- 
guage. May  the  seed  sown  at  that  grave's  mouth  bring  forth  abun- 
dantly for  the  regeneration  of  this  land  ! 

Among  those  present  was  the  first  man  who  ever  read  the  Prot- 
estant burial-service  over  a  dead  body  in  this  land  :  Mr.  Black,  the 
venerable  ex-consul.  He  said  that  in  1824  an  American,  a  shoe- 
maker, was  sitting  in  his  shop-door  on  the  plaza  before  the  Cathe- 
dral. The  procession  of  the  Host  passed  by :  the  carrying  of  the 
altar,  crucifix,  and  holy  water  to  a  dying  man.  He  arose  and  knelt 
in  his  chair.  A  Mexican,  passing  by,  knelt  in  his  door-way,  and 
ordered  the  American  to  get  clown  on  the  floor  on  his  knees.  This 
was  curtly  refused.  The  Mexican  instantly  drew  his  sword  and 
thrust  it  through  the  heart  of  the  American. 

There  was  intense  excitement.  Mr.  Black,  then  a  young  travel- 
er visiting  the  land,  determined  he  should  have  a  Christian  burial. 
He  got  a  Prayer-book,  and  accompanied  the  body  to  the  grave, 
which  was  allowed  to  be  dug  in  the  gardens  of  Chapultepec. 
Stones  were  hurled  at  the  procession,  and  one  grazed  across  his 
chest  as  he  was  reading  the  service.  They  dug  up  his  body  and 
rifled  it,  and  left  it  stripped  on  the  ground.     It  was  reburied,  and 


2-3  '  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

remained  so,  perhaps  because  the  ritual  was  not  read  over  it  a 
second  time.  That  was  the  first  time  the  Protestant  service 
was  ever  employed  in  this  city  at  a  burial ;  this  morning  was  the 
latest. 

Great  have  been  the  changes  in  this  country  since  that  hour. 
The  uplifted  hats  of  all  that  stood  in  the  street  or  passed  by  when 
the  body  was  being  brought  out,  and  of  many  whom  the  procession 
passed,  showed  how  great  the  change  of  feeling  toward  their  breth- 
ren of  other  communions.  May  each  land  and  all  churches  of  Je- 
sus Christ  more  and  more  fulfill  the  Divine  pleasure,  so  that  of  all 
people  it  may  be  truly  said,  "  Whether  living  or  dying,  we  are  the 
Lord's  !" 

The  chief  national  grave-yard  is  in  the  grounds  of  the  San  Fer- 
nando Church.  This  church  is  on  the  Street  of  San  Cosme,  not 
far  from  the  Alameda.  The  tombs  of  dead  presidents,  many,  are 
here.  Quite  stately  affairs  some  of  them,  standing  in  the  open 
space,  while  the  walls  about  the  inclosure  are  filled  with  cells  that 
are  occupied  only  five  short  years  by  the  dead  inhabitant.  Unless 
"Propriedad"  is  written  over  it,  the  slumberer  is  disturbed,  if  not 
awakened,  at  the  end  of  that  little  time,  taken  out,  turned  to  dustier 
dust  by  the  sexton  in  a  neighboring  court,  or  patio,  and  either 
thrust  (what  is  left  of  him)  into  a  grave  at  last,  or  laid  up  on  a 
shelf.  Sometimes  his  skull  and  other  bones  are  set  off  with  flow- 
ers and  other  ghastly  adornings. 

It  is  money  that  makes  this  dire  necessity.  The  Church  gets  fif- 
ty dollars  for  a  five  years'  lease,  and  several  hundreds  for  a  perma- 
nent location.  Next  to  the  utter  absence  of  all  Christian  faith  on 
these  square  slabs,  is  this  horrid  unchristian  unburial.  In  a  coun- 
try where  acres  unbounded  are  fit  only  for  the  sexton's  spade,  and 
where  churches  and  ceremonies  abound,  such  parsimony  and  infi- 
delity are  inexcusable.  Among  the  permanently  buried  of  the 
patio  are  some  half-dozen  presidents,  and  generals,  and  cabinet 
officers,  and  grandees  many. 

Guerro  is  here,  the  first  revolutionist,  who,  failing  to  get  votes 
enough,  took  to  arms,  and  was  shot,  as  he  deserved.     A  brave,  lib- 


FROM  GRAVE    TO   GAY.  259 

eral,  progressive  man,  who  failed  to  see  that  submitting  to  a  wrong 
ruler  was  the  best  way  to  get  a  right  one. 

Miramon  is  here,  who  was  shot  with  Maximilian,  and  whom  the 
emperor  compelled  to  take  the  post  of  honor,  the  centre  of  the 
group,  on  that  sad  clay.  Juarez,  who  shot  him,  lies  not  far  away, 
each  as  quiet  now,  as  fierce  and  hostile  then.  Saragossa,  the  pop- 
ular general  who  drove  the  French  from  Puebla,  is  here,  only  a 
year  elapsing  after  that  victory  before  death  conquered  him.  Com- 
onfort,  who  began  the  revolution  against  the  Church,  is  in  the  cen- 
tre, one  of  the  ablest  presidents  the  country  has  ever  had.  The 
brother  of  the  present  President,  a  powerful  leader  himself  of  the 
State,  is  here.  My  Old  Mortality  guide  through  this  realm  was  the 
American  minister,  who  had  known  many  of  them,  as  almost  all 
had  been  placed  here  in  the  last  few  years.  Most  of  these  leaders 
died  in  their  boots,  died  with  their  feet  warm,  as  the  witty  Isaac  O. 
Barnes  said  John  Rogers  did.  It  matters  not  how.  Enough  that 
they  died.     Finis  is  finis. 

How  mocking  is  life  in  such  a  place  !  How  easy,  it  would  seem, 
it  must  be  to  have  all  ambition  and  life-greed  of  every  sort 

"  Cooled,  like  lust,  in  the  chill  of  the  grave." 

Yet  we  walk  out  from  this  dusty  assemblage  of  the  leaders  of  this 
nation,  and  in  an  instant  are  among  the  hot  and  hasting  crowds 
of  the  public  thoroughfare  ;  horse  rail-cars  are  flying  by ;  they  fly, 
and  do  not  creep  here,  as  in  all  the  United  States ;  the  only  thing 
that  does  creep  there,  except  snakes  and  babies.  Coaches  and 
horsemen,  and  water-carriers  and  other  carters,  whose  shoulders 
and  foreheads  are  loaded  with  huge  weights,  every  body  and  thing, 
seems  as  if  it  would  never  die.  Both  are  right.  Live  while  you 
live,  and  yet  live  so  as  to  be  ready  for  this  sure  summons. 

If  we  still  walk  on  up  the  San  Cosme  road,  we  shall  come,  after 
a  mile  or  more,  to  where  the  aqueduct  suddenly  wheels  westward, 
and  turns  its  face  toward  Chapultepcc.  Opposite  this  turn  you 
see  the  shaded  gate-way  of  the  English  cemetery.  The  American 
adjoins.     Each  is  neatly  kept ;  but  the  English  had  a  prettier  ar- 


26o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

ray  of  shrubs  and  trees  and  flowers,  because  they  took  more  pains, 
or  because  they  have  more,  and  more  wealthy,  residents  here,  or 
because  they  have  a  more  cultured  taste  for  landscape  adorning. 
An  improvement  has  since  been  made,  under  the  direction  of  our 
consul-general,  in  the  American  grounds,  which  now  vie  with,  if 
they  do  not  surpass,  those  of  their  elder  brothers.  They  are  get- 
ting sadly  populous,  but  still  remain  undisturbed,  a  grave  rebuke 
to  the  loose  Latin  notions  concerning  the  dead,  whose  temporary 
permission  to  occupy  their  niches  in  the  wall  is  a  sad  proof  of  the 
powerlessness  of  their  faith.  Their  cold  mottoes  are  sadder,  for  a 
glimpse  or  glow  of  faith,  such  as  makes  the  underground  catacombs 
light,  rarely  finds  a  place  on  their  transient  slab.  Our  higher  faith 
strikes  a  higher  note  even  here,  and  the  grave  of  Protestantism  is 
a  proof  of  its  superiority. 

Inside  the  American  is  a  monument  to  our  soldiers  who  fell  be- 
fore  Mexico.  It  is  somewhat  touched  with  time,  and  needs  a  little 
attention  on  the  part  of  our  officials  or  visitors. 

We  must  give  up  our  pleasant  walks  and  rides  about  this  pleas- 
ant capital.  It  is  a  long  respite  to  ceaseless  wanderings,  this  two 
months  in  one  place.  This  room  is  almost  home-like,  and  the  live- 
ly little  landlady,  almost  one's  mother.  True,  not  a  few  long  excur- 
sions have  been  made  in  important  directions;  two  last  week,  four 
days  in  one,  and  a  day  and  a  half  the  other.  But  the  flight  back 
has  made  this  spot  only  the  more  like  home.  It  must  be  left, 
hotel,  streets,  city,  environs,  friends  not  a  few,  and  foes  none  at  all. 

Being  told  that  poison,  assassination,  kidnaping,  robbery,  every 
thing  baleful  was  my  certain  portion  if  I  set  foot  in  this  city,  under 
my  own  name  or  in  any  incognito,  I  must  bear  testimony  to  the 
contrary  experience  every  time. 

In  a  hotel  owned  or  managed  by  a  priest,  I  have  had  the  best 
of  treatment.  Remember  the  Hotel  Gillow,  ye  who  turn  your  feet 
hither. 

Daily  dining  with  an  earnest  Romanist  and  distinguished  officer 
in  the  United  States  Army,  I  have  met  him  only  in  pleasant  con- 
flict on  religious  questions,  and  have  had  many  proofs  of  his  gen- 


MEXICAN  HOSPITALITY. 


261 


SOLDIERS'   MONUMENT    IN    THE   AMERICAN    CEMETERY. 


erosity  and  gentlemanliness.  At  the  table  of  the  American  minis- 
ter I  have  met  as  devoted  a  Romanist  (who  boasts  of  being  a  pa 
pist)  as  ever  bowed  the  knee  to  the  Virgin  of  Guadalupe,  or  be- 
lieved in  that  miraculous  folly  ;  yet  there  was  little  of  the  inquisi- 
tion in  that  inquisitress. 

We  could  feel  as  safe  in  these  devout  hands  as  in  those  of  their 
own  brethren.  There  will  no  doubt  be  trouble  and  conflict  in  the 
outer  settlements,  but  the  only  danger  at  the  capital  is  too  warm  a 
welcome.  Hannibal  fell  at  Cannae,  under  the  luxuries  of  Roman 
hospitality.  The  Church  should  beware  lest  like  Roman  hospital- 
ity here  destroy  the  courage  to  renew  this  land  in  holiness. 

For  that  it  needs  such  renewal,  there  is  proof  on  every  hand. 
The  people  are  religious,  but  not  in  the  true  faith,  nor  with  the 
true  life.     General  education,  enterprise,  the  uplifting  of  the  toiling 


2q2  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

masses  — these  are  absent.  Especially  is  experimental  faith,  the 
personal,  joyous  experience  of  believers,  gone.  Nay,  it  never  came. 
The  Church  needs  renovation.  A  monopoly  of  religion  is  as  dan- 
gerous as  a  monopoly  of  inferior  businesses — the  more  dangerous  ; 
infinitely  more.  The  Roman  Catholic  Church  has  suffered  from 
monopoly.  It  is  bestirring  itself  as  never  before,  because  of  the 
invasion  of  other  churches.  It  knows  the  talk  about  its  being  the 
exclusive  Church  is  all  humbug ;  that  the  other  ecclesiastical  ex- 
pression of  Christianity  is  as  truly  divine  as  any  it  claims  from  a 
Peter  that  never  was  at  Rome,  and  a  Church  that  has  been  histor- 
ically the  most  imperfect  of  any  that  has  existed. 

We  are  needed.  We  are  welcomed  by  the  people,  and  shall  yet 
be  by  the  priests.  All  American  churches  are  needed.  The  idea 
that  it  is  sectarian  for  these  churches  to  come  here  in  their  own 
proper  form,  is  another  folly  more  foolish  than  the  Romanist  coun- 
terpart, because  more  inconsistent  with  the  history  of  these  churches. 
Come  in  your  own  clothes,  not  dressed  as  Joseph  or  a  harlequin. 
Come  as  Presbyterians,  Episcopalians,  Methodists,  Baptists,  and 
Congregation alists  ;  the  five  fingers  (for  the  thumb  is  a  finger)  that 
make  up  the  right  hand  that  Christ  stretches  out  for  the  salvation 
of  the  world.  Let  not  the  hand  be  doubled  up  against  itself,  nor 
even  against  that  left  hand  of  superstition  and  irrational  rational- 
ism which  so  often  unites  to  smite  the  Lord's  right  hand.  Use 
your  own  forces  in  your  own  way,  and  God  will  give  the  in- 
crease. 

That  such  increase  is  certain,  I  have  no  doubt.  My  stay  here 
has  convinced  me  that  this  is  a  very  open  field  ;  that  many  are 
waiting  our  coming;  that  if  the  Church  takes  possession  of  it  bold- 
ly and  liberally,  she  will  have  instant  and  large  reward.  May  her 
faith  and  works  be  adequate  to  the  signs  of  the  Lord's  will  and 
pleasure.  Let  her  not  smite  the  ground  timidly,  and  only  thrice  ; 
but  in  such  abundance  of  prayers  and  means  as  shall  show  how 
strong  is  her  faith,  how  ardent  her  love  for  her  Saviour  and  her 
brethren.  He  that  soweth  sparingly,  shall  also  reap  sparingly ;  but 
lie  that  soweth  bountifully,  shall  reap  also  bountifully.     Let  her  so 


GOOD-BYE    TO    THE   CAPITAL.  263 

sow  that  her  harvest  may  be  plenteous  of  saved  souls  and  a  saved 
land. 

In  this  calm,  sweet  summer  night  I  bid  a  Mexican  adios,  an  En- 
glish good-bye — God  be  with  you— to  this  fair  city,  beautiful  for  sit- 
uation, and  which  may  yet  be  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth.  To  my 
host,  my  friends,  my  brethren,  adieu.  To-morrow  for  the  North, 
and  a  twenty  days'  long,  long  ride  on  a  tempestuous  diligence. 
Vaminos  I 


BOOK    III. 

FROM  MEXICO  TO  MATAMORAS. 

iS 


OFF  FOR   QUERETARO.  26j 


TO  QUERETARO. 

The  Start. — First  and  last  Church  in  the  City. — The  Game-cocks. — First  Scare. 
— Guatitlan  again. — Barrenness. — Gambling  and  Tortilla-making. — Descent 
to  Tula. — A  Bit  of  English  Landscape. — Tula. — Hunt  for  a  Statue. — A  sil- 
ver Heavens  and  Earth. — Juelites. — Mountains  and  a  mounting  Sun. — Vista 
Hermosa. — Napola. — A  stone  Town. — An  Interior. — The  Stables. — Sombrero 
Walls.  —  Eagle  Tavern.  —  Playing  with  the  Children. — Gamboling  versus 
Gambling. — Cazadero,  the  Bull  Prairie. — Hacienda  of  Palmillas. — Blacksmith 
Idolatry. — Misterio  de  la  Santissima  Trinidad. — 'Tother  Side  up. — Descent 
into  the  Valley  of  San  Juan. — Lone  yellow  Cone. — Longfellow  and  Homer. 
— Elysium  after  much  Turmoil. — A  Dissertation  on  Beggars. — A  Market  Um- 
brella.— In  Perils  among  Robbers. — The  beautiful  Valley  of  San  Juan. — Col- 
orado.— A  Turner  Sunset. — Sight  of  Queretaro. — The  Aqueduct. — The  Bed. 

Do  you  want  a  trip  of  twenty  days  and  twelve  hundred  miles  in 
a  stage-coach,  through  charming  scenery,  the  ride  made  piquant 
with  possible  kidnapings,  robbings,  slaughters,  and  such  like  pleas- 
antries? Then  come  to  the  office  of  the  Diligence  Company,  in 
the  Street  of  Independence,  back  of  the  Hotel  Iturbide,  and  get 
your  billet  and  place.  The  ticket  will  cost  you  ninety-nine  dollars. 
You  can  deposit  another  hundred  or  two  if  you  wish,  and  receive 
a  bill  of  credit,  on  which  you  can  draw  every  night,  where  the  coach 
stops,  of  an  administrador,  or  agent,  of  the  company.  This  avoids 
the  necessity  of  carrying  much  silver  about  you,  and  so  of  tempt- 
ing overmuch  the  rapacity  of  the  robbers  among  whom  your  jour- 
ney lies.  A  few  dollars  it  is  desirable  to  carry  with  you  in  order 
to  satisfy  them  partially  for  their  trouble  in  stopping  and  searching 
you,  and  to  prevent  their  giving  you  their  pistol  because  of  your 
refusal  to  give  them  your  pistoles.  If  they  should  rob  you  of  your 
bill  of  credit,  you  can  telegraph  back  the  fact,  prevent  its  further 
use,  and  get  a  new  one  covering  the  amount  then  undrawn. 


268  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

Armed  with  the  ticket  and  the  bill  of  credit,  and  with  no  other 
weapons,  I  take  my  seat  in  the  coach.  It  is  number  one,  the  best 
back  seat.  I  am  the  only  through  passenger  from  the  city  to  the 
northernmost  port.  Three  friends  were  there  to  see  me  off.  One, 
a  Mexican,  parted  with  me  in  true  compadre  style,  hugging  and  kiss- 
ing, which  were  as  compadrially  returned.  Three  months  had 
made  a  cold  Yankee  into  quite  a  warm  Mexican.  It  is  a  delicious 
morning  in  March  j  but  as  all  mornings  here  are  delicious,  the  re- 
mark is  superfluous.  The  March  wind  is  a  June  zephyr,  and  "  De- 
cember's as  pleasant  as  May."  The  sun  is  not  quite  up,  but  the 
sky  is  gray  with  his  sub-horizon  radiance.  The  streets  are  silent 
and  empty  but  for  the  rattle  of  the  coach,  which  makes  all  the  more 
noise  seemingly  because  of  the  surrounding  stillness. 

We  pass  the  first  church  built  by  Cortez.*  It  is  well  in  the  fields 
to-day,  and  only  frequented  by  a  few  poor  neighbors.  Close  by  it 
is  the  penitentiary,  and  here  military  and  other  executions  frequent- 
ly occur.  Death  is  the  regular  punishment.  A  captain,  a  day  or 
two  before,  insulted  his  superior,  was  marched  out  here  of  a  morn- 
ing, and  shot.  Three  men  robbed  a  carriage  on  the  paseo,  and,  as 
soon  as  captured  and  condemned,  were  shot.  Four  kidnapers  of  a 
gentleman  in  the  city  were  treated  with  like  summary  justice.  The 
action  of  General  Burriel  is  after  the  fashion  of  the  race  :  drum- 
head court-martial  and  instant  execution. 

The  church  is  surrounded  by  heaps  of  ruined  huts,  the  adobe 
brick  dissolving  into  its  original  dust.  Mexico  looks  like  Rome, 
half  a  ruin,  both  in  its  central  streets,  where  convent  ruins  abound, 
and  in  these  dust  heaps,  black  and  homeless,  that  fill  up  its  eastern 
sections.  We  pass  the  gate  and  emerge  on  a  hard  pike,  which 
leads  to  Tolu,  about  sixty  miles  away.  We  traverse  broad  hacien- 
das belonging  to  Mexican  gentlemen,  devoted  chiefly  to  the  culture 
of  the  maguey. 

The  first  village  is  like  most  we  pass — a  string  of  whitewashed 
huts  flush  with  the  roadway,  no  sidewalk  coming  between  the  door 
and  the  rider.     This  one,  unlike  the  others,  is  largely  occupied  with 


*  See  illustration,  page  195. 


THE    VALLEY  OF  GUATITLAN.  269 

game-cocks.  A  breeder  of  them  is  giving  his  brood  the  early 
morning  air.  They  stand  on  a  raised  seat  running  along  the  front 
of  his  cabin,  prevented  from  general  perambulation  by  a  fastening 
to  the  foot.  The  trainer  is  teaching  the  young  ones  how  to  fight, 
holding  a  gray  one  up  to  a  black  beauty,  and  making  each  strike 
the  other  artistically.  They  are  splendid  birds,  putting  to  shame 
the  Shanghais  and  other  gentry  of  bloodless  and  fightless  fame. 
But  even  if  of  a  fighting  race,  they  have  to  be  taught  to  bite  and 
devour  each  other,  and  patiently  taught.  So  brave  nations  drill 
their  braver  soldiers  to  fight,  and  then  declare  their  natural  ani- 
mosity causes  war. 

My  first  scare  occurs  just  out  of  this  gamy  town.  A  company 
of  horsemen  come  riding  down  on  us  from  a  rocky  hill-slope  up 
which  our  half-sick  mules  must  slowly  pull,  for  the  epizootic  is  in 
the  land,  and  I  take  this  thousand-mile  ride  and  risk  with  that  ac- 
companiment. The  gay-caparisoned  riders,  as  they  appear  wrap- 
ped in  their  red  and  blue  zerapes,  are  sufficiently  brigandish  to  stir 
the  fever  in  the  timid  blood.  No  weapon  was  mine  save  my  moth- 
er-wit, and  that  was  an  exceeding  dull  weapon,  and  would  be  very 
clumsily  used  in  the  unknown  tongue.  So  I  wait  patiently  the 
coming  of  the  foe.  On  they  drive,  nearer  and  nearer  to  us,  on  us, 
past  us.  "Adios  "  is  the  only  shot  they  fire.  They  are  muleteers 
from  Chihuahua  and  Durango,  going  to  town,  a  long  three  weeks' 
trip,  to  dispose  of  a  few  sorry  mules.  Time  is  of  no  value  here. 
Two  months  and  twenty  dollars  profit  are  good  equivalents.  Thus 
ends  our  every  fright  the  whole  journey  through. 

The  Valley  of  Guatitlan  is  entered — a  broad,  pleasant  country, 
well  cultured,  and  inclosed  with  bare  brown  hills.  At  Lecheria,  or 
Milk-place,  we  change  one  set  of  eight  sick  mules  for  another. 

Guatitlan  is  galloped  through,  or  would  have  been  had  the  mules 
been  well.  The  San  Pedro  hotel  looks  as  familiar  and  uninviting 
as  ever.  I  shiver  as  I  think  of  that  den  where,  like  Bunyan's  Pil- 
grim, I  laid  me  down,  but,  unlike  him,  did  not  get  a  good  sleep  or 
dream.  The  town  is  large.  Protestant  service  has  been  held  here, 
and  will  be  again. 


270 


OCX  XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


Tecepitlan  appears  on  the  left,  embosomed  in  trees,  at  the  base 
of  hills — a  city  of  priests,  all  Church  property,  till  the  day  of  ven- 
geance came  :  now  a  city  of  poverty  and  fanaticism.  Cyotepec,  a 
pretty  village,  is  passed ;  and  ten  miles  from  Guatitlan  we  stop  to 
breakfast  at  Huahuatoca,  a  sleepy  little  town,  but  with  a  good  ta- 
ble. I  can  not  promise  for  the  correctness  of  this  spelling.  It  is 
phonetic,  and  that  should  be  the  only  way  to  spell. 


S 


CACTUS,  AND   WOMAN    KNEADING  TORTILLAS. 

Now  comes  barrenness  of  barrenness.  For  ten  leagues,  or  near- 
ly thirty  miles,  all  is  a  wilderness.  Rocks  lie  loose  over  the  earth, 
which  is  baked,  and  hard,  and  worthless.  Half-way,  we  change 
horses  at  a  hacienda. 

I  watch  the  men  gamble  for  cents,  and  the  women  make  tortil- 
las. The  former  bet  on  two  who  pitch,  putting  up  eight  or  ten  cen- 
tavos  on  the  throw.     The  latter  are  more  sensible  in  their  voca- 


AN  OLD    TOWN. 


271 


tion.  They  do  not  grind  the  maize,  but  soften  it  by  potash,  pulp 
it,  and  then  prepare  it  for  cooking.  A  smooth  stone,  inclined 
downward,  two  feet  long,  is  the  table.  Behind  it,  on  the  ground, 
kneels  the  lady  of  the  house.  She  rolls  out  the  soft  dough  with  a 
stone  roller,  takes  up  some  of  it,  pats  it  and  repats  it  over  and  over, 
and  lays  it  on  a  brazier  —  a  large,  slightly -hollowed  dish,  over  a 
small  fire  kept  up  by  dried  maguey  leaves.  The  cakes  look  nice 
in  the  making,  and  do  not  taste  bad. 

The  rest  of  the  ride  is  through  softer  scenery — rough  along  the 
roadside,  but  opening  into  broad  fields  and  hollows  of  rich  earth 
and  culture.  Zumpango  and  its  lake  lie  over  to  the  right  or  north, 
a  little,  nice  town,  and  a  handsome  water.  To  the  left  you  see  a 
deep  vale,  crowded  with  trees.  The  stage  turns  toward  it  almost 
by  instinct.  We  wind  down,  and  enter  among  green  fields  and 
trees,  all  out  in  their  new  spring  attire.  A  square  in  a  preliminary 
village,  called  Santa  Maria,  is  especially  charming.  On  we  drive 
amidst  these  tender  and  brilliant  fields  and  foliage,  the  barley  a 
foot  high,  the  grass  velvety,  and  ash  and  oak  superb  in  volume 
and  color.  The  river  Tula  is  crossed,  English  in  its  quiet,  shallow- 
ness, and  munificence  of  trees  ;  and  we  put  our  sick  mules  to  the 
jump,  and  run  through  the  plaza  of  Tula.  This  is  a  town  not  less 
than  a  thousand  years  old.  It  was  settled  by  the  Toltecs  in  the 
eighth  century.  Stone  pillars  still  attest  their  presence  and  power. 
It  was  too  late  to  visit  them  ;  but  one  called  Malinche  was  pointed 
out  to  me  in  a  hill-side  overhanging  the  green  hollow.  I  tried  to 
get  a  boy  to  go  with  me,  but  failed  ;  so  I  started  alone. 

The  country  always  whips  the  town  when  brought  into  fair  com- 
petition. As  I  strolled  through  these  rural  lanes,  with  their  fresh 
fields  and  pastures,  even  their  trees  all  in  their  best  attire,  I  thought 
"  Mexico  is  cheap  to  this."  I  crossed  a  bridge  which  had  little  open- 
ings on  each  side,  with  iron  railings,  to  let  you  look  clown  into  the 
stream.  What  bridge  in  America  is  equally  excellent?  Not  one 
of  our  costly  spans  has  a  place  for  rest  and  observation.  Will  the 
East  River  be  thus  favored?  If  it  is,  few  spots  for  rest  and  obser- 
vation will  be  more  popular. 


272  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

I  climbed  the  hill  where  the  white  face  of  the  Toltec  Malinche 
had  been  marked  out  to  me.  I  could  not  find  it.  A  ghost  of  the 
ages  it  represents,  like  all  other  ghosts,  it  flies  on  near  approach. 
The  sun  went  down,  the  moon  came  up,  each  brilliant  in  its  work 
and  way.  But  Malinche  hid  her  white  face  before  the  white  face 
of  the  moon  among  the  tall  cacti  of  the  hills,  and  I  came  back  dis- 
appointed to  my  hotel.  Several  huge  gray  shafts  in  its  patio  carved 
over  (specimens  of  the  pinea  I  found  not)  solaced  me  for  my  loss. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  was  awakened  by  the  mozo,  as 
the  house  or  body  servant  is  called,  of  the  Casa  de  Diligencias. 
The  moon  was  up,  and  the  sky,  like  the  earth  under  it,  was  full  of 
silver.  A  cup  of  excellent  coffee  and  a  fresh  sweet  roll,  and  I  am 
safely  stowed  away  in  the  coach.  Fortunately,  the  whole  back  seat 
is  mine,  so  that  I  can  take  my  ease,  if  any  ease  can  be  taken  in  this 
peripatetic  inn.  The  mules  leap  out  of  the  court-yard  and  whirl 
away,  crazy  as  the  Pegasus  of  a  new-fledged  poet. 

The  cold  is  sharp,  and  the  road  rough,  rougher,  roughest.  But 
sleep  is  too  much  for  any  road,  and,  lying  on  a  pillow  of  coats,  with 
a  shawl  for  a  blanket,  I  am  tossed  unconsciously  for  three  solid 
hours  ;  unconscious  save  for  the  cold  that  bites  the  toes,  and  which 
a  redistribution  of  the  shawl  causes  to  retreat.  The  sun  is  up,  and 
a  hill-top  station  (also  up),  for  changing  the  mules,  gets  me  up.  I 
get  out,  stretch  legs,  and  renew  coffee.  It  is  called  Juelites  (pro- 
nounced Wheyletes),  the  name  of  an  herb  the  Indians  eat,  which  is 
worse  of  smell  than  garlic.  These  half-dozen  "  huts  of  stone  "  are 
such  as  Dr.  Holmes  would  not  be  content  with,  I  fear,  despite  his 
declaration  to  the  contrary.  There  is  existence  here,  and  that  only. 
Yet  a  school  is  held  here,  and  some  day  the  newspaper  and  the 
true  Church  will  follow,  and  the  hut  of  barbarism  give  way  to  the 
cottage  of  civilization,  which  has  not  been  the  case  these  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years,  in  which  a  spurious  Christianity  has  subdued, 
not  elevated,  this  people. 

The  land  slopes  softly  and  prettily.  The  fields  are  frosty,  the 
first  I  have  seen,  with  one  exception,  all  this  winter ;  each  was  a 
light  September  frost.     They  are  good  for  grazing,  and  their  hoi- 


A    TWICE-BURNED    TOWN.  273 

lows  ample  for  grain.  There  is  no  need  of  poverty  and  degrada- 
tion so  unspeakable.  The  hills,  black,  blue,  and  purple,  and,  when 
the  sun  lights  them,  golden-brown,  as  everywhere  in  Mexico,  "  brown 
in  the  shadow,  golden  in  the  sun,"  like  Willis's  beloved's  tresses, 
form  a  grand  background,  the  rising  sun  being  in  this  case  a  grand- 
er background  to  the  hills. 

Our  mules  fly  as  fast  as  the  fearful  road  and  a  partial  epizootic 
will  let  them,  to  the  stone -house  village  of  Napola.  Before  we 
reach  it,  we  note  the  superb  roll  of  the  land.  It  sweeps  away  in 
majestic  breadth,  black  with  the  plow,  or  awaiting  in  yellow  dry- 
ness the  near  approaching  rains  that  shall  set  every  germ  alive.  A 
hacienda  in  the  heart  of  this  grand  landscape  is  rightly  called 
"Vista  Hermosa"  (view  beautiful).  I  had  never  seen  one  prettier. 
Nor  did  it  lose  its  beauty  because  a  tiny  lake  lay  at  the  bottom  of 
the  valley,  flashing  in  the  morning  rays.  Some  upper  Minnesota 
views  were  not  unlike  it,  only  those  lacked  the  mountains,  a  lack 
indeed. 

The  town  disenchants  you.  Man  is  far  below  nature.  It  was 
burned  twice  by  the  French  in  their  marches  to  and  fro  in  the 
land,  either  because  it  did  not  give  good  enough  pulqui  or  not 
enough  of  it,  for  their  thirsty  needs,  or  because  it  harbored  republic- 
ans and  patriots,  and  political  Protestants,  who  resisted  a  triumph- 
ing foreign  Church  and  army  and  tongue.  "America  for  Ameri- 
cans," native  or  adopted,  the  motto  of  these  United  States,  as  well 
as  those  of  the  North,  brought  wrath  upon  Napola.  It  seems  de- 
termined not  to  be  caught  that  way  again  ;  for  it  rebuilt  its  town 
of  stone.  Not  a  stick  in  it  that  I  could  see,  except  the  few  that 
formed  the  doors.  The  stones  are  laid  neatly,  and  even  ornament- 
ally in  some  cases,  and  then  plastered  over,  so  as  to  give  a  uniform 
whiteness  when  finished  ;  for  this  city,  unlike  some  in  the  West, 
and  many  in  this  country,  can  not  be  said  to  be  finished.  It  has 
been  finished  twice  in  another  way,  and  that  gives  it  a  chance  to 
be  a-growing  again.  Its  name  signifies  cactus,  and  this  hardy  and 
useful  tree  is  growing  in  orchards  among  its  rocks.  So  it  grows 
everywhere,  and  is  well  called  the  national  tree. 


274  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

Some  of  the  stone  cabins  are  of  respectable  height  and  size ; 
but  quite  a  number  are  of  a  type  too  common  in  the  land.  Look 
in  at  this  door,  or  hole  in  the  wall,  for  door  I  saw  not.  It  is  four  or 
five  feet  by  two.  The  room  is  six  feet  by  eight,  short.  The  floor 
is  of  stone,  well  swept  and  clean.  Against  the  back  wall  kneels  a 
comely-looking,  youngish  'housewife,  of  twenty  or  thereabouts,  over 
a  sloping  stone,  on  which  she  is  kneading  her  tortilla  dough. 

It  is  rolled  out  by  a  stone  roller  about  the  size  and  shape  of  the 
kneading-pin  the  women  of  the  North  employ.  A  pile  unfinished 
lies  at  the  upper  end  of  the  stone  ;  the  roller  flattens  and  curls  the 
lower  portion  into  thin  rolls,  which  drop  off  into  a  small  bread- 
trough  at  the  foot  of  the  stone.  This  afterward  she  takes  and  pats 
in  her  hands  several  times,  and  lays  it  on  the  slightly  hollowed  fry- 
ing-pan that  stands  near,  in  the  corner  of  this  room.  It  is  a  pleas- 
ant sight  and  sound,  the  slapping  the  dough  and  frying  the  cakes. 

This  is  their  only  work  almost,  except  that  of  washing,  which  is 
very  similar,  being  also  done  over  a  smooth  sloping  stone,  by  the 
side  of  running  water,  with  profusion  of  slapping,  soaping,  and 
rinsing,  but  with  no  boiling,  except  of  the  washer-women  in  the  hot 
sun.  They  vary  making  tortillas  and  washing  with  combing  their 
long  black  hair,  and  cleaning  it  of  its  contents,  and  with  affection- 
ate attentions  of  like  sort  to  their  friends  and  family.  Besides  the 
tortilla-trough  and  stone  and  pan,  there  are  in  this  room  half  a  doz- 
en earthen  pots  and  vessels  of  various  sizes  for  culinary  purposes. 
I  hardly  saw  aught  else.  No  chair,  no  table,  no  book,  no  paper, 
no  bed — strangest  of  all,  no  looking-glass.  Six  feet  by  eight  of 
space,  walled  in  on  every  side,  with  only  this  hole  for  entrance,  and 
the  young  matron  as  cheerful  as  if  she  were  the  wife  of  Lerdo. 

You  get  an  idea  here  also  of  the  stables  of  the  land.  The  burn- 
ing of  this  town  has  compelled  the  erection  of  new  stables.  There 
is  one  thing  always  sure  of  good  treatment  in  Mexico  :  the  horse. 
House  and  wife  and  children  may  go  uncared  for,  but  not  the 
horse.  Look  at  this  stable  of  the  Diligence  Company.  Almost 
four  hundred  feet  square  is  it.  Along  one  side  stables  are  built 
over  three  hundred  feet  long.     The  face  of  the  stable,  where  the 


FENCE-BUILDING.  275 

stall  is,  is  a  dead  wall  against  the  street.  The  court  side  is  built 
up  four  feet  of  stone  and  plaster.  Every  few  feet  round  pillars, 
eighteen  inches  through,  rise  from  this  wall  to  support  the  roof, 
which  depends  courtward,  leaving  the  stall  higher  at  the  horse's 
head,  and  thus  giving  him  air.  The  space  between  the  stone  wall 
and  the  top  of  the  pillars  which  support  the  roof  is  left  open,  thus 
securing:  constant  ventilation.  The  horses  are  not  stalled  in  here 
as  in  their  boxes  in  the  North,  and  as  men  are  in  oyster  saloons. 
All  the  space  is  open  from  end  to  end.  There  is  ample  room  be- 
hind them  and  around  them,  and  air  as  good  as  a  pasture  affords. 
It  seems  to  me  a  great  improvement  on  our  narrow-boarded  stalls, 
without  liberty  and  without  air.  The  mules  and  horses  are  so 
tethered  that  they  can  not  disturb  each  other,  and  yet  the  whole 
stable  and  court  is  as  sweet  and  wholesome  as  an  orchard.  Here, 
too,  we  note  another  peculiarity  in  the  building  of  the  stone  walls. 
They  make  a  science  of  this  here,  for  stone  is  an  incumbrance  of 
the  land  as  much  as  in  New  England,  or  as  trees  are  in  Wisconsin. 
They  put  them  into  fences  which  beat  New  England's  "  all  hol- 
low." They  make  these  walls  very  high — six  to  eight  feet,  and 
very  broad — three  to  five.  They  put  the  small  stones  at  the  bot- 
tom, and  not  less  than  four  feet  up.  Then  they  put  on  the  big 
rocks.  These  big  stones  overlap  the  base  with  their  rough  edges, 
and  make  the  wall  look  like  a  trim  lad  with  a  huge,  tall,  ragged 
sombrero.  The  lower  half  is  very  compact  and  comely;  the  up- 
per very  rough,  yet  strong.  This  is  probably  a  protection,  for  the 
rough  tall  top  stones  are  not  so  easily  surmounted  or  dismounted. 
Where  these  are  not  sufficiently  defensive,  thorns  are  thrust  into 
the  upper  tier  to  keep  the  robbing  boys  and  men  from  the  in- 
closed gardens.  Sometimes  they  build  the  walls  lower  and  of 
Yankee  fashion,  and  once  I  saw  them  reduced  to  our  narrow  mean- 
ness of  a  single  row  of  stones  ;  but  that  wall  was  nearly  all  down, 
and  soon  disappeared,  leaving  the  field  open  to  every  beast  and 
boy.  The  only  walls  that  were  walls  were  the  handsome  struc- 
tures built  after  the  sombrero  pattern. 

The  landscape  lies  rich  and  warm  all  the  next  posta  to  Venta 


276  OUR  XE XT-DO  OR  NEIGHBOR. 

Aguilar  (or  Eagle  Tavern),  which  is  only  a  stage-house,  and  no 
village.  Here  I  vary  the  monotony  of  waiting  for  the  change  of 
mules  with  helping  three  little  girls,  from  three  to  five  years  old, 
make  tortillas.  They  are  pretty,  laughing  imps,  brown  of  face, 
black  of  eye  and  hair,  and  would  be  called  handsome  by  any  moth- 
er or  aunt  of  them,  and  will  be  by  some  not  thus  related  not  ten 
years  hence. 

They  had  a  small  piece  of  wood  for  the  hearth,  a  little  ground 
straw  for  the  fuel,  two  or  three  black  flakes  of  mud  for  the  cakes, 
and  a  bit  of  earthenware  for  the  frying-pan.  The  youngest  and 
brightest  of  the  three  told  me  very  chattingly  what  she  wished 
to  do.  So,  after  all  was  in  place,  I  astonished  her  by  lighting  a 
match  and  proceeding  to  kindle  her  fire.  This  was  making  the 
ideal  into  the  actual  a  little  too  rapidly,  and  they  declined  the  of- 
fered blaze.  The  mother  came  in  from  the  next  hut,  and  laughed 
with  the  children  to  see  such  a  new  friend  of  the  family.  Having 
been  ordered  by  the  doctor,  a  few  years  since,  when  prostrated 
with  overwork,  to  play  with  the  children,  I  am  not  quite  weaned 
from  that  pleasurable  medicine  yet.  But  I  will  venture  a  guess 
that  the  mother  and  her  tottlings  of  the  Venta  Aguilar  will  come 
to  hear  me  preach  when  my  Spanish  is  perfected,  and  I  return  to 
hold  service  at  this  solitary  inn. 

The  soldiers  who  were  busy  gambling  for  coppers  in  the  stable- 
yard,  I  fear  will  not  so  readily  attend  that  service,  for  I  made  no 
impression  on  their  minds  while  spending  a  moment  watching  their 
game.  Two  pitchers  of  cents  followed  the  usual  fashion  of  that 
game.  Others  sitting  around  put  up  their  coppers  on  the  throw. 
They  got  excited,  and  could  easily  have  changed  their  laughs  to 
blows.  I  prefer  the  gamboling  of  the  little  girls  and  their  baby 
housekeeping. 

From  Venta  Aguilar  we  have  a  delightful  ride  of  six  leagues, 
over  as  fine  a  prairie  as  ever  gladdened  the  eyes  of  an  Illinois 
fbi-Tier,  finer,  in  fact,  because  encircled  with  grand  hills.  It  is 
such  a  luxury,  after  our  rocky  roads  and  hideous  joltings,  to  get  on 
a  plush  carpet,  and  roll  like  a  lad  in  the  first  spring  grass  on  south- 


THE  u  MISTER  10 r 


277 


ern  slopes.  The  air  is  warm  and  breezy.  The  fields  lie  twenty 
miles  from  hill  to  hill  across  our  bows,  and  twelve  from  stem  to 
stern.  They  are  used  for  grazing,  and  were  for  a  long  while  the 
favorite  place  for  raising  bulls  for  the  bull-fights.  These  having 
been  suppressed,  the  bull -raising  has  gone  with  them,  and  the 
splendid  pastures  are  devoted  to  more  honorable  and  peaceful 
grazing  and  tillage.  I  shall  long  remember  with  refreshing  de- 
light that  posta,  as  the  run  of  our  team  is  called,  across  the  airy 
plains  of  Cazadero. 

We  drive  through  the  puerta  of  Palmillas,  or  gate  of  a  gentle- 
man of  that  name,  and  alight  for  breakfast  at  a  high,  cool,  pleas- 
ant hacienda,  where  we  get  a  warm  and  edible  meal  of  the  usual 
course  :  soup,  three  meats,  salad,  beans,  dulce  (or  sweetmeats),  and 
coffee,  for  one  dollar.  It  is  worth  the  money  to  us,  though  it  cost 
the  landlord  hardly  a  quarter  of  that  sum. 

A  blacksmith  shop  near  the  gate  beguiled  me  of  a  few  moments, 
and  taught  me  a  few  lessons.  An  Indian  boy  was  fusing  some 
bits  of  iron  in  the  usual  fashion  of  his  tribe.  On  the  wall  of  the 
smithy  hung  a  picture  of  the  Virgin  of  Gaudalupe,  and  also  one 
entitled  "  Misterio  de  la  Santissima  Trinidad,"  which  was  itself  a 
sermon.  The  Father  Almighty  was  depicted  as  a  venerable  man 
with  gray  beard,  long  locks,  gown,  and  a  triple  crown  on  his  head 
— the  mitre  of  the  pope.  The  Dove  sat  on  his  breast ;  and  be- 
tween his  knees,  with  his  arms  over  each  begowned  leg,  on  the 
ground  half  kneeling,  half  squatting,  sat  the  Second  Person  in  the 
Trinity,  nearly  naked,  his  wounded  side  exposed,  his  sad  face 
crowned  with  a  circlet  of  thorns.  This  cheap  print  is  sold  by  the 
priests  to  devout  lads  like  this ;  for  a  necklace  of  beads  and  charm 
attached  beneath  his  open  shirt  showed  that  he  was  an  honest  dev- 
otee. I  left  that  little  smithy  with  a  deeper  ardor  to  give  to  this 
lad  and  his  people  a  better  Gospel  than  this  idolatrous  one. 

"Eterne  alternation 

Now  follows,  now  flies  ; 

And  after  pain  pleasure, 
After  pleasure  pain  lies." 


278  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

This  law  exists  even  in  postas.  The  last  was  so  luxurious,  I  prop- 
erly dreaded  the  one  to  come.  I  did  not  dread  it  too  much.  It 
was  dreadful  beyond  description.  We  met  it  almost  the  instant 
we  left  the  gate  of  Senor  Palmillas.  It  was  our  descent  into  the 
Valley  of  San  Juan.  For  six  miles  we  plunged  hither  and  thither 
over  the  rocky  slabs  and  boulders  and  the  gullies  around  them. 
The  soil  is  worn  away  by  the  rain  and  the  coach,  and  no  attempts 
are  made  to  build  up  an  even  pathway.  It  would  not  be  difficult 
to  make  a  pleasant  drive-way  down  the  hill ;  but  manana  (to-mor- 
row), and  no  de?iario  (money),  combine  to  make  every  hill-road  I 
have  seen  in  Mexico  a  torture  to  man  and  mule.  The  roads  not 
ten  miles  from  the  capital  that  descend  the  hills  into  the  city, 
and  are  frequented  with  teams  and  travel,  are  in  the  same  condi- 
tion. The  landscape  tries  to  soften  the  travel.  It  comes  as  a 
poultice  to  our  bruised  limbs.  In  the  midst  of  the  upheavals  from 
beneath,  we  catch  glimpses  of  a  valley  that  shall  soothe  us  for  our 
tossings. 

It  is  green  with  trees  and  fields,  and  stretches  out  along  the  base 
of  the  embracing  mountains  for  a  score  miles  and  more.  A 
mountain  of  a  peculiar  type  comes  into  the  landscape.  It  is  off  to 
our  right,  a  cone  of  yellow  rock  with  sub-cones  truncated  half  up 
its  sides.  Alone  it  stands,  not  being  connected  with  the  ranges  of 
ordinary  volcanic  hills  that  everywhere  meet  the  eye  in  all  these 
uplands.  It  seems  a  creation  of  another  sort.  Its  color,  shape, 
and  solitariness  are  all  its  own.  It  stands  back  of  the  regular  rim 
of  the  valleys,  and  looks  at  us  through  the  openings  between  the 
hills.  It  may  be  fifty  miles  away,  probably  more.  It  is  worth  vis- 
iting, and  were  I  here  long  enough  I  would  make  an  excursion  to 
the  Lone  Yellow  Cone  beyond  the  prairie  of  Cazadero  and  the 
hills  of  San  Juan. 

The  road  gets  over  its  madness,  or  we  over  the  road,  and  we 
scamper  down,  not  easily,  into  the  beautiful  valley,  reminding  one 
of  that  finest  line,  rhythmically  speaking,  in  all  "Evangeline,"  which 
has  many  hexameters  as  musical  as  Homer's,  as  the  world  will  find 
out  when  Longfellow  is  dead.     How  presumptuous  of  Bryant  to 


BEGGARS  AN  INSTITUTION. 


279 


put  the  hot  and  mellifluous  "  Iliad"  into  his  cold  blank  (very)  verse, 
when  Longfellow  was  alive,  who  could  do  it  into  English  hexame- 
ters as  honeyed  and  galloping  as  its  own  Greek !  Why  will  he  not 
give  his  next  ten  years  to  this  Conquest  of  Troy?  But  I  have  got 
a  long  way  from  my  quotation  in  my  dissertation.  It  may  seem 
tame  to  give  it  now.     Yet  here  it  is : 

"  Into  the  Sweet-water  valley  precipitate  leaps  the  Nebraska." 

Our  Indian  words  are  as  good  as  the  Greek,  and  Longfellow  has 
handled  them  as  deftly.  So  we  were  precipitated  into  the  beau- 
tiful Valley  of  San  Juan,  and  flew  through  the  streets  of  a  large 
town  of  that  name,  halting  short  at  the  hotel  in  the  plaza,  and  there 
resting. 

A  dissertation  on  beggars  may  as  well  come  in  here  as  any- 
where. Beggars  are  an  institution  in  Mexico,  the  most  developed 
of  almost  any  one  of  her  institutions.  They  are  especially  so  in 
the  outer  settlements,  but  few  of  them  being  seen  in  the  city,  where 
the  police  represses  them.  They  have  graced  every  station  on  our 
route.  The  most  finished  specimens  of  this  class  I  have  seen  were 
at  Cuernervaca.  As  I  was  leaving  my  dining-room,  a  gentleman 
met  me  at  the  door,  dressed  in  a  faded  but  cleanly  suit,  not  unlike 
a  retired  clerk,  or  a  superannuated  preacher.  He  spoke  low  and 
courteous.  I  listened,  but  could  not  understand,  and  turned  to  a 
companion,  and  asked  him  what  this  gentleman  wished.  He  list- 
ened a  moment.  "Only  a  beggar!"  was  his  translation.  I  was 
shocked,  or  would  have  been,  but  that  in  my  solicitations  for  help 
of  feeble  churches  and  Christian  causes,  I  had  been  myself  often 
called  by  that  contemptuous  name.  So  I  put  this  gentleman 
among  the  clergy,  and  gave  him  what  we  get  on  such  occasions — a 
smile,  but  no  shilling. 

Returning  from  a  walk  amidst  the  gardens  of  that  delicious  spot, 
a  smiling  lady  of  seventy  or  seventeen — her  smile  was  of  the  latter 
age,  certainly — met  us,  and  beamed  on  us  ;  asked  us  if  we  had  been 
in  the  flower  gardens  (our  hands  full  of  bouquets  showed  that) ;  in- 
quired if  we  stopped  at  the  Hotel  Diligencias  ;  and  then  prettily  put 


2SO 


OCA'  XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


her  hands  to  her  frock,  as  a  courtesying  girl  would  do,  and  sighed 
and  smiled  forth  her  soul  for  a  sixpence.  We  were  taken  aback 
by  the  sudden  unmasking  of  her  battery,  and  staggered  forth  a 
broken  promise,  broken  in  language  then,  and  in  fact  afterward, 
that  when  we  returned  we  would  grant  her  favor.  But  we  did  not 
return. 

The  beggars  on  this  route  have  many  arts.     They  whine  and 
they  smile.    Blind  men  play  the  guitar  and  violin  prettily  ;  and  one 

of  them  would  not  desist, 
though  bribed  with  a  me- 
dio, saying,  with  true  Mex- 
ican independence,  that  "  I 
play  for  the  pleasure  of 
it  !  Money !  that  is  a 
mere  trifling  considera- 
tion." Old  men  and  old 
women  abound.  The  for- 
mer whine,  the  latter  grin. 
A  jolly  type  of  this  last 
came  at  us  in  San  Juan, 
and  fairly  beguiled  our 
pocket  of  a  penny  by 
her  bland  mutterings  and 
beaming  eyes. 

Two  ways  I  have  learned 
of  treating  these  visitors. 
One  is  to  say  in  broken 
Spanish,  "  I  don't  understand  you.  If  you  will  speak  in  En- 
glish, I  will  give  you  a  medio."  This  Irish  bull  answers  the  pur- 
pose of  getting  up  a  laugh  at  their  expense,  and  of  nonplusing 
their  wits  for  a  moment.  They  are  not  ready  for  the  proposition. 
Another  is  to  give  them  a  piece  of  bread  or  a  banana.  They  re- 
verse every  thing  here  ;  and  if  you  give  them  bread  when  they  ask 
for  a  stone,  or  metal,  which  is  stone  actually,  they  are  not  pleased 
with  your  action  any  more  than  your  children  would  be  in  the  op- 


MEXICAN   BEGGAR. 


COMPANIONS  ON  THE  ROUTE.  281 

posite  process.  So,  standing  among  these  beggars  of  St.  John, 
and  buying  bananas  and  oranges,  I  courteously  offer  each  of  them 
one.  They  declined  the  offer,  all  but  the  one  laughing  old  wom- 
an, and  a  make-believe  crying  girl.  These  accepted  the  less  in 
hopes  of  getting  the  greater. 

The  market-place  of  this  town  was  in  the  centre  of  the  street, 
and  each  dealer  had  over  him  or  her  an  umbrella  eight  feet  high, 
consisting  of  a  rude  pole  with  a  ruder  canvas,  six  to  eight  feet 
square,  spread  across  its  top.  It  served  as  a  narrow  covering  for 
themselves  and  their  fruit,  though  its  "  looped  and  windowed  rag- 
gedness"  afforded  about  as  much  sun  as  shade.* 

We  are  near  the  haunts  of  robbers.  As  we  leave  San  Juan  and 
climb  the  hill  on  the  opposite  side,  they  will  surely  assail  us,  it  is 
said,  with  clubs  and  stones.  Farther  on,  at  Colorado,  they  are 
more  sure  to  attack  us  with  revolvers  and  Winchester  rifles,  which 
they  lately  stole,  half-armed,  from  full-armed  gentlemen  in  a  stage. 
So  we  nerve  ourselves  for  the  coming  possibility.  One  gets  out 
three  ounces,  each  of  sixteen  dollars'  value,  wraps  them  in  a  paper, 
and  shows  a  cleft  in  the  coach-door,  where  the  window  drops  down, 
into  which  he  proposes  to  drop  them.  Another,  a  French  Jew  and 
jeweler,  has  a  box  of  precious  stones  with  him.  He  is  especially 
afraid  of  the  stones  and  the  metal  not  so  precious  as  his  own,  and 
nervously  describes  the  hoot  and  shout.  A  third  is  a  clerk,  with 
the  only  gold  watch  in  the  crowd.  All  these  are  armed  with  re- 
volvers. One  of  the  group  has  no  revolver,  and  no  gold  ounces 
nor  watches.  He  finds  the  Petrine  admonition  valuable  here,  as 
elsewhere,  against  the  putting  on  of  gold  or  costly  apparel,  and  so 
leaves  his  watch  in  Mexico,  while,  as  for  weapons,  he  must  rely  on 
woman's  and  a  minister's  weapon — the  tongue. 

We  take  in  another  man  at  St.  John,  and  rush  madly  out  of 
town,  and  up  the  moderately  high  and  immoderately  hard  hill. 
The  men  of  the  sticks  and  stones  do  not  appear.  The  robber, 
as  he  has  always  been,  thus  far  in  my  history,  non  est.     We  are  in 

*  See  illustration,  p.  249. 
1 9 


jS2  our  next-door  neighbor. 

jeopardy  every  hour.  But  the  jeopardy  is  no  worse  than  it  was 
in  England  a  century  ago,  when  Dick  Turpin  reigned,  and  John 
Wesley  traveled.  Methodism  will  help  do  for  this  country  yet 
what  she  helped  mightily  to  do  for  England  ;  fhake  it  safe  every- 
where. There  are  three  prayers  a  day  all  over  the  land  by  all  the 
people,  and  life  is  not  safe  three  miles  from  any  town.  Yet  it 
should  be  also  said  that  most  of  the  people  are  not  robbers  in  act 
or  sympathy.  They  are  toiling,  law-abiding,  obedient,  respectful. 
I  have  seen  no  Indian  that  looked  ugly  or  dangerous.  They  treat 
you  with  great  respect,  take  off  their  hats  as  you  pass  them  on  the 
road,  and  say,  Bueno  dios,  setior,  or  Adios,sefior,  in  the  most  courte- 
ous manner.  The  robbers  are  of  their  complexion,  but  not  of  their 
nature.  These  are  getting  less  and  less.  They  were  created  by 
poverty  and  politics,  and  with  the  cessation  of  pronunciamentos 
and  the  coming  in  of  railroads  they  will  die. 

The  Valley  of  San  Juan  is  one  of  the  loveliest  I  have  ever  seen. 
Irrigated  by  the  rivers  that  come  from  the  hills  in  the  edge  of  Tier- 
ras  Calientes,  it  glows  in  green  as  perfect  as  Cortez's  emeralds. 
For  more  than  twenty  miles  its  enchantments  lie  under  the  eye. 
Trees  are  sprinkled  over  it ;  haciendas  glitter  here  and  there, 
white  ships  anchored  in  a  green  sea.  There  was  one  field  of 
wheat  which  was  not  less  than  a  hundred  acres  of  level  and  rich 
color.  I  would  say  two  hundred  acres  did  I  not  wish  to  keep 
within  bounds.  This  was  a  bit  only  of  the  big  farm.  Two  of  these 
haciendas  belong  to  one  man.  They  contain  severally  twelve 
square  leagues,  or  over  thirty  square  miles,  and  twenty-two  square 
leagues,  or  about  sixty  square  miles.  They  are  called  Ajuchitlan 
cito  and  Ajuchitlan  grande,  or  small  and  great  Ajuchitlan.  Rod- 
riquez  y  Helquera  is  the  fortunate,  or  unfortunate,  possessor  of 
these  vast  tracts — well  on  to  half  the  valley,  and  which  ownership 
makes  the  people  poor  and  robbers. 

We  pass  two  miserable  villages,  Arroyasecca  and  Sauz,  fringing 
the  magnificent  fields  with  the  rags  of  humanity,  and  stop  at  Col- 
orado, the  chief  robber  haunt,  whose  scowling  gentry  are  sitting 
round  a  beer-table,  or  its  Mexican  equivalent,  a  pulqui  stand.     No 


A   FAVORITE  ROBBER  HAUNT.  283 

place  or  people  sink  so  low  or  soar  so  high  as  to  get  out  of  the 
reach  of  alcohol.  We  do  not  admire  their  looks  or  their  bamboo- 
like Jiomes.  Both  are  as  bad  as  bad  can  be.  It  is  hardly  pos- 
sible to  make  these  men  better  till  their  condition  is  bettered. 
Grace  is  needed  here,  and  then  will  come  law,  protection,  progress. 
These  horrid  huts  must  first  have  family  prayers,  and  then  they  will 
have  goodly  apparel,  books,  comfort,  small  farms  of  their  own  out 
of  these  broad  farms,  and  true  prosperity.  Pray  the  Lord  of  the 
harvest  to  send  forth  laborers  into  this  harvest. 

This  is  the  favorite  robber  haunt  along  the  road.  Stages  are 
frequently  overhauled  between  here  and  Queretaro.  Only  yester- 
day was  there  such  a  visit  to  the  coach.  Though  government 
troops  in  large  numbers  are  lazily  lounging  in  that  city,  and  though 
a  few  score  of  riders  could  clean  out  the  whole  pest,  yet  they  are 
undisturbed,  and  the  travelers  are  left  to  the  cruelty  of  their  ten- 
der mercies. 

As  we  enter  their  paveless  street,  they  eye  us  from  under  the 
coats  of  dirt  upon  their  faces,  and  evidently  reckon  on  some  game 
in  that  stage  for  their  rifles.  When  the  mules  are  changed,  the 
driver  rushes  from  the  stables  with  the  usual  whirl  and  mad  dis- 
play with  which  he  enters  and  leaves  the  towns.  But  in  this  case 
it  is  evident  that  his  scare  adds  wings  to  his  speed.  We  fly 
through  the  village  and  in  among  the  stunted  oaks  of  a  moderate 
hill-slope,  up  the  rough  road,  hardly  abating  our  speed,  for  such 
oaks  are  splendid  for  ambuscade,  and  we  scarcely  walk  our' tired 
mules  until  we  emerge  from  the  last  low  thicket  that  overhangs 
the  valley  and  the  city  of  Queretaro.  The  meadows  t)f  St.  John 
are  gone  with  their  beauty,  not  unlike  that  of  the  St.  John  at  Cam- 
bridge, England.  The  sun  is  setting  in  our  eyes,  sending  a  blaze- 
like  that  of  a  furnace  into  the  clouds  he  is  looking  clown  upon. 
What  would  not  Turner  have  given  to  have  seen  that  copper- 
smelting  glow?     No  tint  of  canvas  could  approach  it. 

Far  down  the  steep  incline  lies  the  city.  One  seldom  sees  a 
lovelier  sicrht  than  tin's.  We  run  down,  over  rocks  and  boulders, 
the   terrible   road   knocking   the   passengers,  if  not   the   coach,  to 


2S4 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


pieces.  The  city  ever  allures  us  on.  Its  towers  and  domes  glis- 
ten in  the  dying  light,  half  hidden  among  abundant  foliage.  Da- 
mascus   never    looked 


lovelier.  »      Though     I 
never  saw  that  earthly 
Eden,  I  fancied  I  saw 
it  in  this  sunset  view. 
The  hollow  of  the  hills 
looks    small   from   this  , 
height,    and    the     city 
seems  embossed  on  the 
bottom  of  a  bowl  of  ra- 
diant green.      It  looks 
large  and  majestic  from 
o-    this  hill-top.     It  is  per- 
0    fectly  in  the  grasp  of 
g    the  eye.     A  farther  de- 

g    scent  brings  the  aque- 
c 

<  duct  to  view,  the  state- 
liest Roman  that  is  ex- 
tant in  America,  and 
there  is  no  grander  in 
Italy,  nor  one  so  grand. 
It  strides  across  the 
hollow,  forty  feet  high, 
with  massive  pillars  and 
broad  arches.  We  rush 
beneath  it,  fly  round  and 
round  dirty,  mud- faced  streets,  into  the  thick  of  the  town,  and 
halt  suddenly  at  the  Hotel  of  the  Diligence.  The  day's  ride  of 
over  one  hundred  miles  is  done,  and  gladly  the  couch  is  sought 
and  found. 


WHERE  MAXIMILIAN  DIED. 


285 


II. 

QUERETARO. 

Into  the  Town. — Maximilian's  Retreat. — Capture  and  Execution. — Hill  of  Bells. 
— Factories  and  Gardens. — Hot-weather  Bath. — A  Home. — Alameda. — Sun- 
day, sacred  and  secular. — A  very  Christian  name. — Crowded  Market,  and 
empty  Churches.  —  Chatting  in  Church.  —  Priestly  Procession. — Among  the 
Churches. — Hideous  Images. — Handsome  Gardens. 

As  I  came  rattling  down  the  steep  place  into  this  fair  city  with 
the  setting  of  the  sun,  I  could  only  think  of  another  sun  that  set 
here,  and  whose  sad  brilliance  shot  a  lurid  flame  across  the  orb  of 
the  world.     Here  Maximilian  met  his  fate. 

This  was  the  last  landscape  he  ever  saw  ;  such  a  sunset  on  these 
same  hills  the  last  he  ever  looked  upon.  It  brought  a  shadow 
over  the  picture,  a  shadow  not  of  time,  but  of  man.  These  are  the 
fields  and  hills  which 

"  Do  take  a  sober  coloring  from  an  eye 
That  hath  kept  watch  o'er  man's  mortality." 

Maximilian  and  Montezuma,  three  hundred  and  fifty  years  apart 
in  their  history,  are  blended  in  a  historic  unity.  They  had  much 
in  common.  Men  of  refined  rather  than  of  strong  nature,  loving 
art  rather  than  arts,  put  in  command  of  a  turbulent  people  at  a 
crisis  in  its  history,  with  an  instinct  of  honor  rather  than  of  gov- 
ernment, they  each  fell  into  hands  more  powerful  than  themselves, 
and  perished  with  regret,  and  yet  with  dire  military  necessity. 

Maximilian  retreated  to  Queretaro,  after  the  French  left  the 
country,  a  step  of  exceeding  unwisdom  ;  for  Mexico  the  city  is  Mex- 
ico the  State,  and  the  possession  of  that  is  nine  points  in  the  pos- 
session of  all  the  country.     He  lied  to  this  city  probably  because 


2 86  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

it  was  a  clerical  town,  and  one  of  his  most  ardent  supporters,  while 
the  political  capital  might  prove  treacherous. 

The  Republicans  surrounded  it.  Batteries  were  planted  on  the 
hill  down  which  the  diligence  plunges;  on  a  headland  next  to  it, 
across  a  broad  and  deep  canon  ;  and  the  third  on  Sierra  de  los 
Campanas,  or  Hill  of  the  Bells,  a  knob  of  not  much  height,  rising 
out  of  the  meadows  to  the  north-west  of  the  town.  He  was  in  the 
Church  of  the  Cross,  with  huge  gardens  attached,  surrounded  by  a 
high  wall,  making  a  fortress  of  especial  strength.  One  of  his  gen- 
erals betrayed  that  fortress  of  a  church,  and  he  was  captured. 
Tried  by  court-martial,  he  is  condemned  for  publishing  a  cruel 
edict,  two  years  before,  which  outlawed  all  Republicans,  and  caused 
the  murder  of  many.  He  is  ordered  to  be  shot,  with  two  associ- 
ates, Miramon,  ex-President  of  the  republic,  and  Tomas  Majia,  a 
general.  They  are  marched  out  to  the  Hill  of  the  Bells,  and  in 
front  of  its  fort,  high  up  the  hill-side,  the  three  men  fall  by  the  bul- 
lets of  the  government.  With  them  fell  the  Church  jDower  in  Mex- 
ico. It  was  her  last  battle.  For  twenty  years  she  had  plotted, 
and  raised  rebellions,  and  introduced  a  foreign  prince  and  a  foreign 
army.     Miramon  was  her  Mexican  leader,  Pius  IX.  her  European. 

A  favorite  picture  on  the  parkor  walls  of  devout  Romanists  here 
is  Maximilian  and  Carlotta  visiting  the  pope.  He  sits  on  a  dais, 
holding  converse  with  them  about  Mexico.  They  were  blessed  by 
him,  and  urged  on  their  dim  and  perilous  way.  He  was  the  real 
centre  of  the  imperial  movement ;  Napoleon  was  only  his  military 
director.     All  of  it  was  Romanism,  and  Romanism  only. 

When  America  finished  her  war,  Mr.  Seward  put  sixty  thousand 
men  on  the  Mexican  frontier,  and  sent  a  polite  note  to  the  French 
minister  suggesting  that  the  French  troops  be  recalled  from  this 
continent.  Napoleon  saw  that  his  stay  in  Mexico  was  at  an  end, 
and  gracefully  withdrew  his  troops.  Maximilian  should  have  gone 
with  him.  But  he  fancied  he  could  win  alone.  He  trusted  the 
Church  party.  They  were  weak  and  weaker  every  day.  Juarez, 
inspired  by  the  United  States,  moved  on  him  and  drove  him  hith- 
er, captured,  condemned,  shot  him. 


A   SCENE  FOR    THE   CANVAS.  289 

The  hill  where  he  was  killed  is  only  a  mile  from  the  town.  It 
is  about  a  hundred  feet  high — a  Bunker  Hill  in  size,  height,  and 
history ;  for  here  Mexico  achieved,  in  her  way,  her  independence. 
He  was  placed  a  little  below  the  summit,  facing  the  east,  looking 
toward  Miramar  and  his  mother's  house.  A  sketch,  made  at  the 
time,  gives  the  sad  scene.  The  three  men  stand  apart  from  each 
other,  and  guards  of  soldiers  are  on  either  side.  Easy  and  grace- 
ful in  their  attitudes,  calm  of  feature,  they  await  the  shot  that 
sends  them  to  another  world  ;  let  us  hope  a  world  where  there  is 
no  war,  nor  wickedness,  nor  woe. 

The  spot  where  he  fell  is  marked  by  a  heap  of  stones,  cast  up 
without  order  by  living  hands.  Many  of  these  stones  are  marked 
with  a  cross.  Some  of  them  have  three  crosses  on  them,  some  five 
— the  most  sacred  sign — emblematic  of  the  five  wounds  of  Christ. 

This  is  the  tribute  of  his  party  and  Church,  and  could  not  have 
been  done  in  many  cities  of  the  country.  It  shows  how  badly  the 
cross  is  blasphemed,  and  justifies  our  Puritan  fathers  for  abolishing 
its  use  altogether.  It  came  to  signify  spiritual  tyranny  and  super- 
stition, and  was  rightly  rejected.  So  these  rude  scratches  are  evi- 
dence of  hostility  to  republican  and  tolerant  ideas,  of  bitterest  hos- 
tility to  true  Christianity.  It  may  yet  burst  forth,  not  in  crosses 
alone,  but  in  crucifixion  also. 

The  view  from  this  Hill  of  the  Bells  is  uncommonly  fine.  The 
valley  lies  about  you,  full  of  verdure.  Never  did  any  valley  look 
lovelier.  Hundreds  of  acres  of  wheat  and  barley  and  lucern, 
greenest  of  the  green,  seem  in  a  race  for  superiority  in  color, 
while  the  trees  are  not  behind  in  beauty.  Flowers  of  richest  hue 
glow  in  the  gardens,  and  the  city  stands  forth,  with  its  glittering 
towers  and  domes,  a  spectacle  long  to  be  remembered.  It  would 
be  hard  to  find  the  equal  in  beauty  of  this  combination  of  high, 
bold  cliffs,  ranges  of  hills,  velvet  meadows,  and  stately  churches. 

The  river  makes  the  town.  But  for  that,  this  valley  would  be  as 
dry  and  yellow  as  that  of  Mexico.  As  it  is,  one  can  not  see  within 
the  circuit  of  the  spurs  of  the  hills  a  barren  spot.  If  but  George 
L.  Brown  were  only  here  to  put  this  scene  on  his  burning  canvas. 


290  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

how  many  would  haste  to  see  the  picture,  if  not  the  reality.  I 
know  not  where  is  a  richer  bouquet.  Other  valleys  are  grander; 
this  is  complete.  As  if  to  keep  the  memory  green  of  the  great 
conflict  crowned  on  this  spot,  some  ancient  nopals  just  below  the 
crest  still  show  the  holes  in  their  leaves  made  by  the  bullets  of  the 
besiegers.  It  is  a  monument  that  will  not  soon  die,  for  nothing 
seems  to  live  more  leisurely  than  the  cactus,  and  it  well  adorns  the 
lustrous  picture  with  its  rude  and  strong  appropriateness. 

The  whole  scene  is  placid  and  lovely  as  a  sleeping  babe.  How 
different  when  blood  and  fire  and  vapor  of  smoke  filled  all  the  hol- 
low! 

"  Death  rode  upon  the  sulphury  siroc, 
Red  battle  stamped  his  foot,  and  nations  felt  the  shock." 

This  inland  town  and  this  tiny  hill  made  sorrow  and  trembling  in 
the  Tuileries  and  Schonbrunn.  Consternation  awoke  in  all  courts 
as  the  stern  decree  was  executed  that  announced  to  all  the  world 
that  European  monarchs  must  "hands  off"  to  all  American  nation- 
alities, and  ere  long  to  all  American  soil. 

The  city,  like  all  in  Mexico  and  everywhere  else,  has  much  that 
will  not  bear  close  examination.  Its  edges  are  not  sweet,  any 
more  than  those  of  London  or  New  York.  It  has  but  few  choice 
streets,  and  fewer  choice  houses.  The  most  are  depressingly  de- 
grading. Poverty  has  wrought  its  perfect  work,  and  the  last  cent 
is  both  often  and  rarely  seen  by  the  pauperized  people.  Beggars 
abound,  and  thrust  their  offensive  winnings  into  your  unwilling 
ears.  The  plaza  is  a  pretty  garden  of  tropical  delights,  more  boun- 
tiful than  that  of  Mexico,  for  the  land  lies  lower  and  warmer. 

Other  products  abound.  Under  the  portal  of  this  plaza,  among 
the  shops,  I  saw  a  lad  generously  searching  the  long,  thick,  grizzled 
back  hair  of  his  mother  as  faithfully  and  as  successfully  as  such 
mothers  in  other  lands  search  such  sons.  It  was  a  good  evidence 
of  filial  affection. 

A  factory  here  deserves  notice.  It  is  two  miles  from  the  city, 
in  a  deep,  hot  canon,  and  is  big  enough  to  attract  attention,  even 
in  England  or  New  England.     On   its  looms  it  employs  fifteen 


DESCRIPTION.   OF  A    COTTON  FACTORY. 


291 


hundred  hands.  Mr.  Sawyer,  a  New  Hampshire  cotton-spinner, 
superintends  several  rooms.  He  took  me  over  the  whole  of  it.  I 
know  little  of  cotton-spinning,  though  I  have  been  taken  through 
many  mills.  I  saw  this  had  the  familiar  whirr  and  fuzz  of  such 
mills.  Rooms  as  long  as  those  of  Lowell  were  driving  their  looms. 
The  main  building  is  but  three  stories  high,  and  most  of  them 
only  two.  The  cloth  manufactured  is  of  poor  quality,  not  worth 
over  six  cents  in  the  States.  Here  it  sells  for  eighteen  and  three- 
quarter  cents  :  a  real  and  a  medio. 


\  i  i '  T  '%  f  V  K  Y  i 


f* 


r.T^.n'JlH  I  XI 


A  COTTON   FACTORY,  QUERETARO. 

The  most  striking  peculiarity  about  these  mills  is  the  garden  in 
front  of  them.  This  garden  is  full  of  orange-trees  laden  with  the 
ripe  fruit,  with  peach-trees  in  blossom,  figs,  pomegranates,  trees 
bearing  crimson  flowers  called  the  "noche  buena,"  or  the  Christ- 
mas flower,  as  it  is  much  used  for  that  holiday.  Roses,  geraniums, 
fuchsias,  and  many  unknown  to  the  cold  North  are  blooming  in 
this  factory  yard. 

More  striking  is  the  old  mill  in  this  vivid  contrast.  It  stands 
back  from  the  street,  near  the  water-course.  It  is  inclosed  on  three 
sides  with  a  high  iron  fence,  light,  graceful,  and  tipped  with  gilded 
points  and  balls.      Inside  is  a  spacious  garden,  with  walks  and 


29,  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

founts  and  foliage  and  flowers.  Several  gardeners  daily  care  for 
the  nourishment  and  pruning  of  these  thirsty  and  wanton  luxuries. 
Benches  are  scattered  around.  Thickets  of  green  and  natural 
houses  are  daintily  grown  together.  Every  thing  is  after  the  best 
type  of  a  lordly  pleasure-garden,  and  yet  it  fronts  a  factory  where 
whirring  spindles  and  looms  are  its  constant  music.  Flutes  and 
soft  recorders  would  seem  more  fitting. 

How  would  our  factories  be  improved  with  a  slight  approach  to 
this  beauty!  Perhaps  they  prefer  to  give  their  hands  more  than 
thirty-one  cents  a  day,  and  to  work  them  less  than  fifteen  hours, 
than  to  adorn  the  grounds  so  richly.  That  is  what  these  work- 
men and  work-women  get  and  do.  For  two  reals  and  a  medio 
they  work  from  six  in  the  morning  to  nine  and  a  half  at  night ; 
some  from  five  to  that  late  hour,  with  a  recess  of  one  hour  and  a 
half.  All  the  workmen  pay  a  real  a  week  for  the  doctor,  whether 
they  want  him  or  not,  and  take  one-third  of  their  pay  out  of  the 
company's  store ;  so  their  fifteen  reals,  or  one  dollar  and  seventy- 
five  cents  a  week,  becomes  fourteen,  and  ten  of  these,  or  one  dol- 
lar and  a  quarter,  is  all  their  cash  in  hand  for  ninety  hours' 
steady  work,  at  half-past  nine  on  Saturday  night.  No  wonder  the 
huts  they  occupy,  my  lord,  the  owner  of  the  mills,  would  not  put  his 
favorite  dog  into.  He  even  keeps  a  judge,  before  whom  he  re- 
quires all  their  grievances  to  be  brought,  and  over  the  door  of  his 
office  is  printed  "The  only  Judge."  This  signified  that  none 
should  seek  relief  at  any  other  court  except  at  his  peril.  The 
owner  of  these  mills  is  successful  and  unsuccessful,  making  and 
losing  many  a  fortune.  He  is  a  young  man  who  inherited  the  es- 
tablishment, and  who  has  the  odd  fancy  of  going  daily  to  town  in  a 
red  stage-coach  with  four  horses,  which  he  drives,  preferring  this 
startling  mode  to  riding  horseback  or  in  an  ordinary  vehicle.  I 
saw  him  thus  flaunt  out.  His  mills  do  not  pay,  despite  the  ele- 
gance of  the  gardens,  the  poorness  and  price  of  the  goods,  and  the 
cheapness  of  the  labor.  He  is  constantly  and  overwhelmingly  in 
debt.  So  the  Yankee  mill-owner  may  conclude  it  is  wiser  to  make 
his  mills  less  romantic  and  his  profits  more  sure.     If  he  also  will 


THE  ALAMEDA    OF  QUERETARO.  293 

work  his  people  less  and  pay  them  more,  his  lack  of  taste  may  be 
condoned.  Still,  if  to  all  excellences  he  adds  these  factory  gar- 
dens of  Queretaro,  he  will  find  his  mill  the  more  attractive,  and 
make  of  duty  a  delight. 

The  valley  runs  up  into  the  hills,  filled  with  groves  of  fragrance, 
fig,  orange,  cactus,  agua  (a  vegetable  butter-apple,  used  as  sauce 
for  the  tortillas),  zapotes,  and  other  nameless  fruits.  At  its  head  a 
bath  attracts  many  visitors,  placed  among  groves  of  incense.  The 
very  air  is  burdened  with  spicy  odors. 

The  aqueduct  that  stalks  so  majestically  across  the  short  cam- 
pagna  has  its  fountain-head  near  these  baths.  It  runs  along  the 
mountain-sides  for  three  miles,  and  then  marches  across  the  valley 
to  the  town.  It  makes  a  superb  feature  in  the  landscape  ;  and  is 
the  only  real  Roman  relic,  save  what  the  church  affords,  on  the 
continent.  It  is  ante-Roman,  older  than  the  Caesars,  old  as  Ra- 
meses  and  Solomon. 

The  alameda  here  is  the  pleasantest  I  have  seen  in  all  the  coun- 
try. It  is  a  little  one  side  of  the  town,  and  has  a  country  look  such 
as  Boston  Common  used  to  have,  and  Druid  Hill  now  has.  It  is 
about  fifty  acres  square,  has  a  drive  around  it,  and  long,  straight 
diagonals  going  from  a  central  circle  to  the  corners.  High,  grand, 
green  ash-trees  make  its  chief  shade.  Grass,  well  sprinkled  with 
dandelions,  lies  open  to  the  free  play  of  children,  and  wanderings 
of  their  elders.  The  familiar  tree  and  flower  made  the  spot  more 
Northernish  and  home-like  than  any  of  its  fellows.  It  was  a  deli- 
cious spot  to  sit  and  muse,  and  grow  mellow  with  homesick  long- 
ings. London  parks,  the  only  country  fields  in  the  heart  of  a 
great  city,  are  not  more  homely  and  homeful.  One  forgets  his 
strange  surroundings,  hostile  even  though  they  be,  in  this 

"  Society  where  none  intrudes," 

for  beggar,  nor  priest,  nor  lordling  frequent  the  spot.  There  is 
no  wealth  to  come,  and  the  others  go  not  where  wealth  is  not. 
When  you  come  to  Queretaro,  be  sure  to  take  a  long  lounge 
through  its  alameda. 


294  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

The  Sunday  begins,  like  all  other  days  here,  religiously  and  sec- 
ularly. The  trumpets  of  the  garrison  ring  out  the  first  reveille,  and 
the  bells  of  the  churches  ring  out  almost  immediately  their  oration, 
or  call  to  prayer.  By  five  the  tintinnabulations  play  on  the  tympa- 
num, like  a  Fourth  of  July  at  home,  and  "sleep  no  more"  is  a  de- 
cree that  has  to  be  obeyed.  It  was  a  pleasanter  sound,  certainly, 
than  the  music  of  pleasure  bands  and  factory  bells,  and  I  almost 
forgot  myself  for  a  moment,  and  fancied  I  was  going  to  have  a 
goodly  service  on  this  sacred  clay.  This  impression  was  deepened 
by  an  incident  which  occurred  while  I  was  taking  my  desayuno,  or 
first  breakfast,  which  consists  of  only  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  small 
roll.  I  ask  the  waiter  what  his  name  is.  "Trinidad,  sefior,"  he 
replies,  respectfully.  Shocked  at  the  answer,  I  repeat  it.  "  Trin- 
idad ?"  "  Si,  senor."  "  La  Santissima  Trinidad  ?"  "  La  Santis- 
sima  Trinidad,  senor."  So  I  was  talking  with  the  Most  Holy 
Trinity  in  the  form  of  a  poor  Aztec  boy.  I  never  supposed  their 
baptismal  names  had  reached  that  pitch  of  profanity.  "Jesus" 
is  as  common  as  John  at  home ;  more  so :  but  "  La  Santissima 
Trinidad  !" 

I  asked  this  wonderfully  named  youth  if  he  went  to  church. 
"Yes."  "Every  day?"  "Every  eighth  clay."  "What  day?" 
"Sunday."  "At  what  hour?"  " Between  five  and  six."  So  that 
bell-ringing  had  taken  him  to  church.  I  asked  him  if  he  could 
read.  "Yes."  "  Have  you  a  Bible  ?"  "No."  "Would  you  like 
one?"  "Yes."  All  I  had  was  a  Spanish  Testament,  and  that  went 
to  La  Santissima  Trinidad  at  the  risk  of  disclosing  my  business, 
and  bringing  the  kidnapers  about  my  ears.  How  strange  to  call  a 
child  by  the  most  holy  name  of  God  Himself.  The  priest  that 
baptized  such  a  babe  needs  himself  to  be  renewed  in  the  spirit  of 
his  mind,  and  the  Church  that  admits  it  certainly  should  be  re- 
formed. 

This  utter  insensibility  to  all  distinctions  as  to  sacred  and  divine 
things  was  strikingly  shown  at  a  dinner-table  in  Cuernervaca.  A 
company  of  Americans  and  English,  all  Protestant  in  their  train- 
ing, had  a  leading  Mexican  of  the  section  at  meat  with  them.     A 


DESECRATION  OF  THE  SABBATH.  295 

water-melon  was  brought  on.  He  cut  off  the  end,  and  pouring  a 
bottle  of  wine  into  it,  said,  "This  is  the  blood  of  Christ.  This" 
(feeling  of  the  melon)  "  is  the  body  ;  and  the  two,  coming  together, 
make  a  soul."  He  said  this  blandly,  and  as  though  he  were  get- 
ting off  a  good  religious  thought.  Even  the  freethinking  members 
of  that  party  shrank  from  that  unconscious  profanity.  So  thor- 
oughly are  this  people  saturated  with  form  and  void  of  power, 
under  the  education  of  mere  form,  in  which  they  have  for  so  many 
generations  been  trained. 

I  went  out,  after  my  coffee,  to  church  ;  for  though  I  have  little 
faith  in  Romanism,  I  feel  that  it  is  better  to  go  to  the  house  of 
God,  strangely  perverted  though  it  be,  than  to  idle  the  day  away 
in  outward  non-observances.  One  can  himself  pray  aright,  if  the 
others  pray  awry.  The  plaza  before  the  cathedral  was  crowded 
with  trades-people.  Bazars  had  been  formed  by  temporary  shan- 
ties, and  the  streets  adjoining  were  lined  on  both  sidewalks  ;  the 
stores  were  in  full  blast.  Never  a  day  more  busy.  The  divine 
names  given  by  the  priests  do  not  prevent  the  desecration  of  the 
divine  day.  It  would  be  easy  to  stop  all  this.  But  the  Sabbath, 
and  the  Bible,  and  the  very  titles  of  our  God  and  Saviour  are  alike 
cast  out  and  trodden  underfoot.  Is  it  any  wonder  God  has  cast 
them  out  ?  Over  all  this  land  nothing  is  writ  so  plain  as  the  an- 
nihilation of  ecclesiastical  power  and  wealth.  Every  church  they 
hold,  not  as  their  own,  but  as  a  loan  of  the  government,  while  con- 
vents, immense  in  extent  and  costliness,  are  everywhere  deserted 
and  in  ruins.  This  city  is  full  of  them,  not  yet  driven  through  by 
the  plowshare  of  the  street  commissioner;  for  there  is  not  money 
enough  to  level  them,  and  make  them  into  highways.  Yet  they 
are  all  the  more  desolate  from  their  utter  emptiness  and  silent 
crumbling  into  dust.  One  of  these  plazas,  and  the  most  beautiful, 
was  made  from  the  garden  of  a  convent  belonging  to  the  cathedral, 
and  along  one  side  of  it,  coming  up  to  that  church  and  covering 
not  less  than  ten  acres,  is  a  heap  of  ruins,  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
city.  You  wander  under  lofty  arches,  and  into  courts  without  a 
window,  door,  or  dweller — a  ruin  as  complete  as  Melrose  Abbey  or 


296  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

the  Coliseum.  Such  is  it  in  many  places  in  this  yet  intensely  pa- 
pal town.  Let  the  true  and  living  Church  come  and  build  up  these 
waste  places,  and  fill  these  empty  courts  with  heavenly  songs  and 
teachings  and  testimonies. 

"  Hasten,  Lord,  the  glorious  day." 

I  entered  the  cathedral  at  about  half-past  eight.  Mass  had  al- 
ready commenced,  though  only  a  few  were  present.  They  kept 
coming  in  and  dropping  on  their  knees.  There  are  only  one  or 
two  benches,  so  the  floor  is  the  sitting-place.  Two  ladies,  dressed 
in  blue  silk,  with  all  the  fashionable  flounces  and  over-skirts  and 
trails,  floated  by  me,  one  kneeling  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  where 
she  could  sit  also,  when  she  desired ;  the  other  seating  herself  on 
the  bench  where  I  sat.  They  wore  black  lace  veils,  and  no  bon- 
nets. I  have  never  seen  a  bonnet  in  a  church  here.  As  others 
came  in  of  their  friends,  there  were  nods  and  smiles  of  mutual  rec- 
ognition ;  and  when  some  of  them  knelt  at  the  side  of  those  on  the 
floor,  conversation  ensued,  the  service  constantly  going  on.  So  I 
saw  that  kneeling  in  a  papal  church  did  not  any  more  necessitate 
devotion  than  sitting  in  other  churches. 

After  much  singing  by  the  boys,  and  other  incidents  of  the  mass, 
a  procession  is  formed,  and  a  silken  canopy,  wrought  with  gold,  is 
borne  by  six  Indians,  who,  I  note,  are  never  priests — only  Gibeon- 
ites.  I  have  not  seen  a  full-blooded  Indian  in  high  Church  orders. 
They  rule  in  the  State,  but  not  in  the  Church.  Yet  I  hear  they 
are  found  in  some  parts  of  Mexico.  Before  this  canopy  marches 
one  with  a  silver  crucifix.  Under  it  a  very  old  man  carries  a  sil- 
ver star  or  sun,  on  which  the  crucifix  stands,  seemingly  a  very  sa- 
cred affair.  Hard-looking  officials  accompany  this  venerable  bear- 
er. They  stop  opposite  my  bench  at  an  altar,  and  bow  and  kiss 
the  silver  sun,  move  on  to  the  high  altar,  and  place  it  in  the  cen- 
tre. It  is  as  powerless  and  useless  as  the  opera  operations  of 
some  more  intelligent,  if  not  more  Christian  congregations.  It 
was  nothing  to  the  crowd  that  witnessed  it,  or  the  men  that  per- 
formed it. 


THE   VIRGIN  IN  FINE  ATTIRE.  297 

A  sermon  was  preached  at  this  stage,  which,  as  I  could  not  un- 
derstand, I  did  not  dislike  ;  nor  did  I  dislike  the  manner  and  ap- 
pearance of  the  preacher,  who  seemed  earnest  and  devotional ; 
and  I  especially  liked  the  breaking  off  half  way  in  his  discourse 
and  engaging  in  prayer,  in  which  all  the  congregation  joined.  I 
should  have  liked  it  better  had  I  not  seen  the  same  thing  twice 
before,  and  therefore  judged  it  formal,  and  not  of  the  heart.  Yet 
I  do  not  condemn  a  good  practice  because  of  possible  formality, 
and  would  not  object  to  seeing  a  like  invocation  by  preacher  and 
people  at  the  beginning,  middle,  and  end  of  our  sermons. 

After  attending  this  service  I  visited  the  churches.  Few  of 
them  are  in  a  good  condition.  None  have  a  fresh  and  animating 
air.  All  overflow  with  images.  Never  did  a  nation  so  give  itself 
up  to  image-worship.  Hundreds  of  little  white  images  hang  near 
the  shrine  or  doors,  probably  to  be  sold  for  household  gods.  The 
Virgin  Mary  is  dressed  in  every  sort  of  garb  and  color,  sometimes 
with  crinoline,  yards  across.  In  the  Church  of  Santo  Domingo,  in 
Puebla,  her  robes  stand  out  with  an  enormous  spread.  Blue,  pur- 
ple, yellow,  lace,  gold  and  silver  ornaments  —  every  array  is  she 
set  forth  in.  Once  I  admired  the  simplicity  of  her  apparel.  At 
the  Church  of  San  Felipe,  over  the  top  of  the  high  altar,  she  stood 
in  perfect  white  marble,  or  hard  and  shining  plaster,  hooded,  al- 
most, as  to  her  face,  holding  in  one  hand  a  candlestick,  and  in 
the  other  a  crucifix.  It  was  too  simple  and  severe  for  the  taw- 
dry taste  displayed  usually  behind  these  glass  fronts. 

A  crucifix  below,  on  a  side  altar,  made  amends  for  that  simplic- 
ity. Christ  was  on  his  hands  and  knees.  His  whole  backbone 
seemed  laid  open  by  the  lash,  and  blood  was  flowing  from  every 
rib  and  cord  over  his  sides.  It  was  horribly  hideous  and  false,  as 
were  the  two  courtesanish-looking  faces  of  fair,  fat,  forty,  and  fine- 
ly-dressed women  that  were  made  into  angels,  and  hovered  dolor- 
ously, but  not  sympathetically,  above  him. 

The  Church  of  the  Cross,  where  Maximilian  lived,  and  which  he 
fortified,  and  where  he  was  captured,  is  one  of  the  chief  churches, 
with  some  ornament,  but  especially  noticeable  for  a  graceful  tomb,  a 

20 


298  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

shrouded  female  with  a  long  wand,  leaning  over  a  tablet,  on  which 
the  name  of  the  dead  is  graven. 

Santa  Clara,  where  my  astonishingly -named  mozo  goes,  is  the 
most  ornate  structure.  Such  a  profusion  of  gilding  I  have  seen 
nowhere  else.  Five  altars  from  floor  to  ceiling  are  covered  with 
figures  and  carved  work,  all  thick  with  gold,  while  the  arches 
around  and  above  the  door-way  are,  if  possible,  even  more  over- 
laid. It  is  astonishing  what  an  outlay  of  precious  leaf  has  been 
made  on  these  shrines.  This  church  was  crowded  at  vespers  to 
the  pavement  without,  where  many  sat,  joining  with  the  voices  that 
took  up  the  refrain  from  within.  These  were  all  the  poorest  of  the 
poor.  Rags  and  beggary  and  utter  penury  knelt  on  the  floor  or 
sat  on  the  benches  of  this  gilded  chapel  that  cost  more  than  any 
church,  probably,  in  the  United  States.  When  shall  we  equal  them 
by  our  equality  ? 

The  Church  of  the  Virgin  of  Gaudalupe  was  almost  equally 
adorned  with  gold,  but  had  only  a  few  worshipers.  Its  convent 
has  become  a  hospital,  and  exquisite  flowers  fill  its  courts  with 
beauty  of  odor  and  of  sight.  Its  front  is  of  the  Moorish  type, 
more  so  than  any  in  the  capital  or  Puebla,  and  its  graceful  minaret 
and  very  quaint  buttresses,  flying  out  from  the  wall  like  a  scroll, 
are  proofs  of  the  influence  Grenada  had  over  Madrid. 

The  churches  and  priests  are  the  chief  characteristic  of.Quere- 
taro.  No  wonder  it  is  such  a  church-town.  It  is  more  completely 
filled  with  these  structures  than  any  city  I  have  seen — than  any, 
probably,  in  the  land,  except  Guadilajara.  Puebla  has  far  less, 
proportionately  to  its  inhabitants,  and  far  inferior  ones,  excepting 
its  cathedral,  which  here  is  cheap  and  poor.  One  I  strolled  into 
(I  forget  its  name)  had  five  altars,  with  ornaments  carried  to  the 
roof,  most  elaborately  and  profusely  carved  and  gilded.  Statues, 
globes,  hearts,  and  even  the  coils  of  the  entrails,  are  perched  on  ev- 
ery possible  spot,  and  covered  thick  with  gilt.  The  door-way  to 
the  sacristy  was  remarkably  adorned  in  this  fashion.  Only  those 
of  Santo  Domingo  chapel,  in  Puebla,  were  equally  brilliant  at  the 
time  of  their  execution.     They  make  none  such  nowadays.     Gold 


AN  ADVENT  AWAITED.  299 

is  too  dear,  and  the  Church  too  poor  for  this  luxury.  It  looks 
faded  also,  and,  like  its  service  and  power,  is  out  of  joint  with  the 
present. 

Priests  abound.  I  have  not  seen  as  many,  in  all  my  stay  in 
Mexico,  as  in  this  single  clay.  Some  of  these  big  convents  are  as 
yet  unopened,  and  the  day  of  their  sovereignty  has  not  yet  closed. 
It  will  be  perilous,  perhaps,  to  establish  the  true  worship  here, 
though  there  are  some  who  look  and  long  for  its  appearing.  I 
heard  of  one  such,  a  Mexican  workman  of  influence  and  position. 
I  understand  there  are  others  who  are  ready  to  cast  away  their 
beggars'  robes  of  idolatry  and  formalism  and  arise  and  come  to 
Jesus.     May  many  and  all  soon  come  ! 

We  close  our  visitations,  convinced  that  much  prayer  and  faith- 
ful labor  must  be  put  up  and  put  forth  before  this  people  will  be 
weaned  from  their  idols  and  their  Sabbath-breakings,  and  brought 
to  the  feet  of  Christ.  And  that  prayer  is  going  up,  and  that  labor 
is  going  forth,  and  Queretaro  shall  be  a  city  holy  unto  the  Lord, 
with  sanctuaries  filled  with  grateful,  joyful,  holy,  intelligent,  prosper- 
ous worshipers.  No  rags,  no  beggary,  no  Sabbath-breaking,  no 
superstition. 


;oo  OCR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


III. 

TO   GUANAJUATO. 

A  bad  Beginning. — A  level  Sea. — Celaya. — A  Cactus  Tent.  —  Salamanca. — 
Irapuato. —  Entrance  to  Guanajuato. —  Gleaning  Silver. — The  Hide-and-go- 
seek  City. — A  Revelation. 

I  have  had  two  real  panics  since  my  arrival  in  this  country,  both 
short  and  severe.  The  first  was  the  night  of  my  reaching  Mexico  ; 
the  last,  the  night  of  my  leaving  Queretaro.  Both  were  ground- 
less ;  but  so  was  Mr.  Parrish's  scare  in  North  Salem,  almost  two 
hundred  years  ago,  about  witches,  if  he  was  scared  at  all,  which 
is  doubtful,  there  being  good  reasons  for  believing  he  was  simply 
carried  away  by  revenge  in  a  church  quarrel.  That  scare  has 
given  the  enemies  of  Massachusetts  a  good  stick  to  beat  her  with 
from  that  day  to  this,  and  faithfully  has  it  been  used. 

My  first  scare  was  caused  by  the  horrors  on  which  I  was  fed 
from  New  York  to  the  capital.  I  was  told  that  I  must  go  under  a 
feigned  name,  or  I  would  be  poisoned,  stilettoed,  kidnaped,  robbed. 
This  is  an  anticlimax,  but  a  true  one  to  some  souls,  loss  of  money 
being  to  them  the  greatest  loss.  I  found  on  my  arrival  at  Mexico 
that  one  minister,  not  being  well,  thought  that  he  was  poisoned  by 
the  Jesuits,  and  was  urged  to  have  a  private  room  and  an  Ameri- 
can or  English  cook.  I  took  a  room  in  a  hotel  rented  by  a  Jesuit 
priest,  his  father  owning  it,  and  went  to  bed.  The  room  was  very 
large,  the  bed  very  small.  The  farthing  candle. did  not  throw  its 
beams  very  far,  and  only  made  darkness  visible.  Lonely,  weary, 
heart-sick,  homesick,  I  was  in  a  good  state  for  the  panic  to  strike  ; 
and  it  struck.  For  some  minutes  I  rolled  in  the  trough  of  the 
sea  of  fear.  All  its  waves  and  its  billows  went  over  me.  "  Then 
called  I  on  the  name  of  the  Lord  ;  oh  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  delivet 


A   POSSIBLE  JACKAL.  30I 

my  soul."  The  work  was  His,  not  mine.  The  peril  mine,  the  pres- 
ervation His,  and  preservation  far  surpassed  all  peril.  My  favorite 
talisman,  that  had  done  excellent  service  often  before,  was  again  at 
hand,  and  I  repeated, 

"  Jesus  protects  !     My  fears  be  gone  ! 
What  can  the  Rock  of  Ages  move  ? 
Safe  in  His  arms  I  lay  me  down, 
His  everlasting  arms  of  love." 

I  had  no  return  of  that  panic  in  Mexico.  Though  out  late  and 
in  out-of-the-way  places,  I  took  my  possibly  poisoned  coffee  as 
cheerfully  as  Socrates  his  really  poisoned  drink,  and  came  and 
went  indifferent  to  fear.  Though  in  consciousness  of  peril,  there 
was  no  panic,  nor  thought  of  panic. 

It  came  upon  me  again  at  Queretaro,  and  as  foolishly.  I  had 
been  even  more  earnestly  warned  against  making  this  tour.  I 
had  most  unwisely  allowed  my  letter  of  credit  on  the  Diligencia 
company  to  be  made  out  in  my  first  name  only,  and  my  ticket  to 
Matamoras  likewise ;  and  with  a  Spanish  ending,  Senor  Gilberto, 
which,  under  the  novel  pronunciation  of"  Hilberto,"  was  sufficient- 
ly concealing.  This  was  done  without  my  knowledge  or  consent  by 
a  too  careful  friend,  but  I  allowed  it  to  pass.  It  did  not  increase 
my  courage.     A  disguise,  however  thin,  makes  the  wearer  weak. 

At  the  head  of  the  breakfast-table  sat  a  fine-dressed  gentleman, 
whose  dulces  and  Champagne,  freely  proffered,  made  him  autocrat 
thereof.  I  was  told  afterward  that  his  style  was  above  his  known 
means  of  support,  that  he  was  watched  by  the  police,  and  that  he 
was  suspected  of  being  in  league  with  robbers,  giving  them  infor- 
mation of  any  rich  placers  his  position,  as  a  boarder  in  the  stage- 
house,  might  enable  him  to  detect.  I  was  to  go  at  three  in  the 
morning,  alone.  Possibly  the  tea  and  coffee  helped  it  along,  but 
it  came — the  panic.  I  went  to  bed  for  a  couple  of  hours,  knowing 
better  than  "Probabilities"  knows  the  coming  weather,  that  there 
was  to  be  a  storm.  The  soldiers  woke  me  at  two,  with  some  deli- 
cious soft  notes.  I  rarely,  if  ever,  heard  any  thing  more  mellow. 
But  I  only  thought  of  the  poor  captain  shot  the  day  before  I  left 


302  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

Mexico,  for  insulting  his  colonel,  and  fancied  this  bird-like  sweet- 
ness was  a  knell. 

I  took  the  coach,  my  sole  companion  opposite.  Three  armed 
men  had  accompanied  me  to  Queretaro.  One,  perhaps  unarmed, 
goes  with  me  out  of  it.  I  had  been  trusting  in  those  arms,  though 
I  pretended  not  to  be  relying  upon  them.  I  had  repeated  to  a 
splendidly  armed  and  trained  shooter  that  I  was  sufficiently  arm- 
ed ;  for 

"Thrice  is  he  arm'd  that  hath  his  quarrel  just." 

And  when  he  was  not  satisfied  with  his  favorite  as  an  authority,  I 
fell  back  on  one  higher  and  better,  and  said,  with  David :  "  The 
angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth  round  about  them  that  fear  Him, 
and  delivereth  them."  Now  here  I  am,  without  the  language,  or 
a  rifle,  or  a  companion,  alone  on  the  high  seas  of  travel.  I  am 
tempted  sore  for  a  little  ;  then  comes  my  talisman  again  : 

"  Jesus  protects  !     My  fears  be  gone  !" 

And  they  went.  I  laid  clown  on  the  rocking  seat  and  slept.  I 
awaked  with  the  sun.  My  sole  fellow-traveler  left  me  at  the  sec- 
ond posta,  Apiaseo,  a  long  adobe  town. 

I  got  out  of  my  dignity  and  dust,  and  mounted  behind  the 
driver ;  no  one  is  allowed  to  sit  at  his  side.  I  exchanged  verbal 
commodities,  giving  him  English,  of  which  I  had  plenty,  for  his 
Spanish,  of  which  he  had  plenty.  So  we  rode  for  a  hundred  miles; 
and  the  experience  of  riding  alone  and  unarmed  through  the  coun- 
try was  settled  ere  that  morning  sun  grew  hot.  I  forgot  all  about 
the  gentleman  who  was  to  let  his  robber  friends  know  that  I  was 
on  the  road — a  conceit  that  only  a  panic  could  have  created  ;  for 
I  was  no  fit  game  for  their  rifles.  I  felt  as  comfortable  and  secure 
with  the  driver  and  his  unloaded  rifle  as  with  the  best  sharp-shoot- 
ers of  the  country. 

The  country  too,  from  Queretaro  to  Guanajuato,  I  had  totally 
misapprehended.  I  had  supposed,  as  the  latter  city  was  a  mining 
town,  the  road  to  it  must  be  far  worse  than  any  I  had  seen.  I  was 
condemning  myself  for  my  folly  in  going  off  my  track  home  a  hun- 


A   SLIGHT  DISCREPANCY.  303 

dred  and  fifty  miles  to  see  naught.  It  was  as  if  one  going  to  Al- 
bany from  New  York  should  have  gone  round  by  Springfield,  ex- 
cept that  this  was  all  stage-riding,  rough  and  tedious. 

But  duty  called,  and  I  obeyed.  "Per  aspera  ad  astra  "  I  tried 
to  make  my  motto,  through  hard  places  to  the  heavenly.  But  it 
turned  out,  as  is  so  often  the  case  when  we  fancy  we  have  a  big 
cross  to  take  up,  on  taking  it  up,  we  find  it  no  cross  at  all. 

The  road  was  smooth  and  level  as  oil.  Only  where  it  crossed  a 
dry  brook,  or  where  the  coachman  took  the  paved  centre  instead 
of  the  soft  sides,  which  he  did  occasionally,  was  there  any  approach 
to  rockness.  The  day  was  splendid,  cloudy,  and  coolish  ;  the  scen- 
ery was  grand:  a  prairie  a  hundred  miles  long,  and  half  that  in 
width,  with  mountains  ever  inclosing  the  vision.  The  fields  were 
almost  all  under  cultivation.  Irrigation  gave  them  a  green  and 
gladsome  look.  The  alfalfa,  or  lucern,  was  the  greenest  of  the 
green.     Wheat,  barley,  maize,  and  chilli  were  growing  luxuriantly. 

Celaya  was  our  first  large  and  pretty  town,  some  forty  miles  from 
Queretaro.  A  landlord,  very  bland  and  child  -  like  in  his  smile, 
told  me  the  city  had  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  inhabitants. 
"  Twelve  thousand,"  I  suggested.  "  No,  senor  ;  one  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand."  I  wrote  down  the  figures,  "12,000;"  he  cor- 
rected them  to  "120,000."  Somebody  blundered;  for  the  driver 
said  there  were  not  over  eight  thousand.  Another  traveler  says 
there  are  twenty-five  thousand.  Perhaps  he  meant  Leon,  for  which 
I  was  aiming. 

The  market-place  was  full  of  flowers.  They  sell  large  bouquets 
of  roses,  tulips,  and  other  flowers  for  a  tlaqua  (three-fourths  of  a 
cent).  This  is  the  only  Indian  name  used  in  the  currency,  and 
was  the  bottom  cent,  an  eighth  of  a  real,  until  the  centavos  ap- 
peared, a  tenth  of  a  dime,  and  the  new  baby  displaced  the  old  one. 
Still  the  old  dies  hard,  and  every  thing  is  sold  by  the  tlaqua,  and 
not  the  centavo. 

In  the  middle  of  the  prairie,  where  we  changed  horses,  a  woman 
had  made  a  tent  of  a  cactus,  and  was  busy  rolling,  patting,  and  fry- 
ing her  tortillas,  putting  upon  them  a  small  spoonful  of  beans  and 


,0,  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

a  smaller  spoonful  of  chilli,  or  pepper-sauce,  folding  them  up  for 
the  driver  and  his  mozo.     This  combination  is  not  bad. 

There  were  not  unfrequently  stands  by  the  roadside  under  a  cac- 
tus-bush, and  sometimes  dinners,  and  sometimes  dwellers  there. 
The  two  chief  towns,  Salamanca  and  Irapuato,  are  not  far  from 
\  Guanajuato.  The  first  is  pretty ;  the  last,  beautiful.  I  have  seen 
none  more  so.  It  contains  a  population  of  twenty  thousand.  The 
houses  are  freshly  and  prettily  washed ;  and  it  is  lively  withal.  I 
sauntered  through  the  plaza,  talking  and  being  talked  to  by  beg- 
gars many.  How  lovely  are  these  plazas,  with  all  manner  of  lovely 
flowers !  How  unlovely  their  human  weeds  !  How  strange  such 
beauty  can  be  so  beset  !  When  shall  our  country  villages  see  their 
greens  and  squares  thus  transformed?  Will  they  then  be  equally 
deformed  ?  I  found  this  place  had  a  local  fame,  and  was  the  North- 
ampton or  Canandaigua  on  which  a  traveler  might  stumble,  and 
fancy  he  had  made  a  discovery,  when  lo !  their  beauties  had  long 
held  a  high  place  among  their  neighbors.  So  this  city  is  a  favor- 
ite the  country  round.  It  deserves  to  be.  No  preacher  need  be 
sorry  if  he  is  stationed  at  Irapuato.  He  will  enjoy  every  minute  of 
his  triennium. 

The  road  runs  on,  still  smooth  and  velvety,  amidst  hollows  and 
Peru-trees,  and  the  mesquite.  We  pass  the  hacienda  of  asses  (a 
large  and  popular  one,  of  course),  and  come  to  the  hills  that  evi- 
dently conclude  the  valley.  Our  prairie  is  gone.  What  you  could 
not  do  in  a  day  in  Illinois,  we  have  done  in  exactly  that  time.  We 
turn  to  the  mountains  on  our  right  hand.  They  encircle  us  close, 
coming  round  in  front,  having  been  for  a  hundred  miles  on  both 
wings.  There  is  no  way,  seemingly,  through,  or  over,  or  into  ;  and 
yet  a  city  of  fifty  to  sixty  thousand  inhabitants,  the  greatest  silver 
town  in  the  land,  is  right  close  to  us,  in  among  these  bald,  rocky 
bluffs.  There  must  be  a  valley  over  there  in  which  it  lies  em- 
bosomed. But  where  it  can  be,  or  how,  are  conundrums  too  hard 
for  us.  The  plains  are  deserted,  and  we  begin  to  wriggle  in  and 
out  the  spurs.  We  climb  the  hill  slightly  and  softly,  our  good  gen- 
ius of  the  road  still  keeping  off  the  stones.     No  valley  the  other 


A   MEANDERING  RIDE. 


305 


side  ;  only  a  ravine.  We  enter  it,  pass  a  mud  village,  pass  men 
spooning  water  with  a  jerk  upon  an  inclined  plane  of  stone,  cov- 
ered with  whitish  mud.  This  is  the  last  washing  of  the  silver  mud, 
and  done,  like  gleaning,  by  the  workmen  out  of  hours,  as  their  own 
private  speculation. 


CHURCH  OF   SAN   DIEGO,  GUANAJUATO. 

Stone  walls  twenty  and  thirty  feet  high,  and  with  a  castellated 
look,  inclose  these  reduction  works.  The  hills  grow  closer  togeth- 
er, as  if  to  resist  invasion.  But  the  driver  defies  the  hills,  and 
dashes  on,  winding  round,  crossing  and  recrossing  a  shallow  brook 
with  no  sign  of  a  city,  except  now  and  then  a  gleam  from  a  church 
high  up  the  mountain-side,  which  increased  the  deception ;  for  the 
city  was  not  there  ;  clinging  now  to  the  brook,  now  to  the  preci- 
pice, now  to  both  together,  narrowing  and  narrowing,  like  an  old 
lady  the  toe  of  the  stocking  she  is  knitting. 


306  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

Swinging  round  one  of  these  blank  and  profitless  points  after 
another,  we  suddenly  strike  a  small  but  beautiful  green  garden,  full 
of  loungers.  Another  sharp  turn,  and  we  are  in  the  busiest  street 
I  have  seen  in  Mexico :  one  side  set  with  seats  all  occupied,  the 
other  with  shops,  chiefly  of  drink,  and  all  the  street  alive  with  peo- 
ple. So  we  race  through  street  after  street,  narrow,  backed  up 
against  the  hills,  intensely  crooked  (as  how  could  they  otherwise 
be  ?),  until  another  green  plaza  is  passed,  and  we  halt  with  a  jerk, 
and  a  crunch  as  of  steam-brakes,  in  the  heart  of  the  hole,  at  the 
Hotel  Concordia. 

It  is  the  most  Yankee  town  in  Mexico.  Indeed,  few  in  Yankee- 
dom  are  as  Yankee.  Dover  and  Lynn  do  not  turn  out  as  many 
gazers  at  the  passing  trains  as  these  sidewalks  and  windows  do  to 
the  rattling  coach.  Lowell  is  as  full  of  street  loungers  ;  Manches- 
ter, perhaps  ;  but  no  other. 

I  found  Americans  here,  and  was  at  home,  both  in  the  place  and 
the  language,  from  the  start,  and  rejoiced  at  so  delightful  an  end- 
ing to  my  unusually  bad  beginning.  The  road  of  which  I  had 
heard  nothing,  and  which  I  had  supposed  so  rough,  was  smooth  as 
a  Red  River  prairie.  The  robbers  changed  to  chatty  drivers  and 
market-women,  and  the  end  was  as  home-like  as  the  Merrimac  or 
the  Alleghany.     So  may  every  dark  still  turn  to  brighter  day ! 


THE  STYLE   OF  COSTUME.  307 


IV. 

A  SILVER  AND  A  SACRED  TOWN. 

Native  Costume. — Reboza  and  Zarepe. — The  Sombrero. — A  Reduction  Haci- 
enda.— The  Church  in  Guanajuato. — Its  Antipodes. — A  clerical  Acquaint- 
ance.— A  mulish  Mule. — "  No  quiere." — The  Landscape. — Lettuce. — Calza- 
da. — The  Town  and  Country. — Fish  of  the  Fence. — The  Cactus  and  the  Ass. 
—  Compensation.  —  One-story  City.  —  High  Mass  and  higher  Idolatry. — The 
God  Mary. 

Dust  off,  and  clothes  changed,  let  us  go  out  and  look  at  the 
city.  The  streets  are  full  of  people.  This  is  a  festa  day,  the  day 
of  St.  Joseph,  and  nobody  is  at  work.  The  folks  are  out  in  their 
best  array  of  reboza  and  zarepe.  The  reboza  is  the  mantle  of  the 
ladies,  and  their  weakness  ;  the  zarepe  that  of  the  gentlemen,  and 
one  of  their  weaknesses.  For  sexes,  like  every  thing  else  here,  go 
by  the  contraries  to  what  they  do  elsewhere,  and  men  are  much 
more  dressy  than  women.  The  reboza  is  always  quiet  in  color, 
black,  blue,  and  brown  being  the  prevailing  tints.  It  is  a  thin-wove, 
light  cotton  mantle,  some  three  yards  long  and  three-quarters  wide, 
which  is  worn  over  the  head  and  shoulders  in  an  easy  and  grace- 
ful manner.  It  is  the  only  adornment  they  possess,  apart  from  the 
pleasant  faces  that  beam  from  within  it,  and  which  are  as  good- 
looking,  that  is,  look  as  good,  as  their  whiter  sisters  here  or  else- 
where. 

The  men  are  more  set  forth.  They  essay  the  zarepe.  I  do  not 
find  this  word  in  my  lexicon,  but  suppose  that  is  the  way  to  spell  it. 
This  is  a  thick  shawl  of  many  colors,  sometimes  striped  in  red,  yel- 
low, green,  blue,  and  white  ;  sometimes  with  light  centre  and  em- 
broidered edges.  They  muffle  up  their  face,  and  wrap  their  shoul- 
ders in  this  gay  shawl  even  in  the  hottest  days.  It  is  their  pride. 
Some  of  them  cost  two  or  three  hundred  dollars,  and  they  rise,  with 


3o8  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

gold  and  silver  lace  embroidery,  to  the  height  of  five  hundred  dol- 
lars and  over.  Not  so  the  ladies'  mantle.  The  highest-priced  re- 
boza  I  have  seen  was  worth  fifteen  to  twenty  dollars,  and  was  a 
plain  light-blue,  checked,  not  looking  a  whit  better  in  color  than  a 
blue  checked  calico  of  a  ten-cent  valuation,  but  of  course  soft  and 
fine.  It  has  also  an  edging  of  stiffened  netting,  a  quarter  of  a  yard 
wide,  which  is  a  sign  of  its  aristocratic  rank. 

The  men  are  not  content  with  their  radiant  zarepe.  They  essay 
the  sombrero  in  silver  and  gold.  Broad,  light  gray-and-white  felts 
are  faced  with  broad  silver  lace,  and  fantastically  wrought.  They 
have  bands  of  silver  swollen  into  a  snake-like  form  around  the  bot- 
tom of  the  crown  ;  also  buttons  and  stars  of  silver.  They  are  oft- 
en very  costly  and  ornate. 

Then  come  their  pantaloons  of  leather,  if  they  are  on  horseback, 
with  a  row  of  silver  or  brass  buttons,  close  packed  from  pocket 
to  heel,  on  the  seam  of  either  leg.  The  extra-fashionable  adorn 
this  garment  by  fancy  facings  on  back  and  legs,  set  in  very  pretti- 
ly, and  making  that  rude  patch  of  our  childhood  and  of  many  a 
manhood  a  really  handsome  ornament. 

It  is  but  proper  to  say  that  the  ubiquitous  European  is  changing 
these  fashions,  and  that  more  soft  hats  and  silk  hats  after  the  New 
York  and  Paris  fashions  are  seen  to-day  on  the  plazas  of  all  the 
chief  cities  than  the  magnificently  gotten-up  sombreros,  while  the 
zarepe  is  almost  entirely  remanded  to  the  working-classes.  Even 
the  brimless  hats,  with  their  towering  feathers  and  flowers  and  lace, 
are  replacing  modest  lace  veils  and  black  shawls  for  church,  and 
blue  rebozas ;  and  Mexico  will  soon,  I  fear,  be  undistinguishable 
in  dress  from  New  York. 

The  mines  have  created  this  city,  and  still  enrich  it.  They  are 
located  in  the  hills  behind  and  above  the  town.  Humboldt  reck- 
oned that  one-fifth  of  the  silver  of  the  world  had  come  from  one 
mine  here,  and  the  yield  now  is  five  millions  a  year.  They  are 
worked  on  shares — the  laborer  half,  the  owner  half.  These  "  dig- 
gings "  are  carried  to  the  reduction  haciendas,  as  grain  is  carried 
to  a  mill,  and  are  either  sold  to  the  haciendados,  or  reduced  by 


THE  PROCESS  OF  REDUCTION.  309 

them  for  their  toll.  There  are  over  fifty  of  such  haciendas,  some 
of  them  quite  extensive.  Mr.  Parkman,  of  Ohio,  has  one  of  the 
oldest  and  largest.  He  is  now  somewhat  feeble  in  years,  and  his 
sons  carry  on  his  business.  His  house,  spacious  and  cool,  over- 
looks his  works.  The  miners  and  owners  bring  their  ore  here.  It 
is  distributed  according  to  its  apparent  value,  the  best  masses  be- 
ing reduced  by  themselves.  The  ore  is  beaten  under  huge  ham- 
mers, ground  by  mules  walking  round  a  press,  in  which  it  is  re- 
duced to  powder,  placed  in  open  vats,  mixed  with  dissolving  chem- 
icals, salt,  sulphurets,  and  powerful  solvents,  and  trampled  by  horses 
to  get  the  soil  and  solvents  well  mixed  together.  But  the  powerful 
chemicals  soon  injure  their  feet.  Mr.  Parkman,  with  his  Yankee 
wit,  provides  a  cheap  and  admirable  substitute.  It  is  simply  a  bar- 
rel moving  along  an  axle.  The  axle  stretches  across  the  patio 
from  the  centre  to  the  circumference.  Horses  outside  pull  it 
round.  The  barrel  on  the  axle  both  revolves  upon  it  and  moves 
up  and  down  it,  reaching  thereby  all  the  composition,  and  com- 
mingling it  more  perfectly  than  horses'  feet  can  do,  yet  with  injury 
to  none.     It  is  a  simple  and  seemingly  effective  remedy. 

From  this  patio  the  substance  is  put  through  several  waters,  and 
the  silver  at  last  nearly  extracted.  It  is  then  placed  in  furnaces, 
and  by  heating,  the  still  adhering  and  undesired  elements  are  driv- 
en out ;  and  so,  through  fire  and  water,  the  well-sought  silver  is 
brought  into  a  narrow  compass.  Even  then  it  is  ragged  and  unfit 
for  working.  It  must  be  run  into  bars,  and  carried  to  the  mint, 
and  coined  into  solid  dollars,  halves,  and  quarters,  for  the  delight 
and  destruction  of  mankind.  In  Guanajuato  they  vary  this  form 
of  its  ultimate  disposition  with  those  more  pleasing  and  artistic  ; 
and  horses,  horsemen,  muleteers,  carboneros,  and  other  native  pe- 
culiarities are  cast  in  solid  silver,  and  sold  as  curiosities  at  compar- 
atively low  rates.  In  fact,  silver  is  about  all  that  flourishes  in  Gua- 
najuato. The  people,  like  those  of  most  mining  towns,  are  reckless 
of  money  and  morals. 

The  church  is  more  than  silver.  How  is  it  in  Guanajuato? 
Not  very  hopeful.     Like  most  mining  towns,  it  is  more  free  than 


3io  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


religious.  It  has  several  Roman  churches,  some  of  which  are  rath- 
er  handsome.  But  there  is  little  power,  even  of  this  church,  over 
the  city.  Making  money  too  easy,  it  is  feverish,  gambling,  dissipa- 
ting, indifferent  to  the  Church.  There  is  room  here  for  work  of  the 
right  kind,  much  room.  It  would  do  no  harm,  but  much  good,  if 
every  Christian  church  had  earnest  missionaries  among  this  half  a 
hundred  thousand  population. 

One  thing  does  flourish,  if  the  Church  does  not — the  liquor  sa- 
loons. Here,  as  everywhere  the  world  over,  the  chief  of  devils 
is  drink.  But  here,  unlike  the  States,  it  assumes  its  true  name. 
See  that  one  on  the  chief  street,  rightly  named,  "  El  Delirio  "  (The 
Delirium) ;  and  this  is  "  La  Tentacion  ! !"  with  two  admiration 
points — (The  Temptation  ! !).  Well  named.  I  have  seen  one  en- 
titled "  El  Abysmo  "  (Hell).  If  our  beer  and  whisky  saloons  were 
equally  honest,  some  of  their  victims  might  be  saved  from  tempta- 
tion, delirium,  and  hell,  which  they  now,  under  false  pretenses,  too 
surely  bestow. 

Let  us  wind  out  of  Guanajuato,  and  see  its  antipodes.  One 
need  not  go  half  round  the  world  to  find  his  opposite.  He  meets 
him  often  at  the  next  door,  nay,  usually  in  himself.  So  we  find  the 
antipodes  of  Guanajuato  fifteen  leagues  off.  Leon  is  said  to  be 
the  second  city  of  the  republic  in  size.  It  must  be  worth  visiting. 
Five  in  the  morning  we  are  scampering  through  the  streets  of  the 
city,  in  which  the  mules,  like  the  Oregon,  according  to  Mr.  Bryant, 
hear  no  sound  save  their  own  dashings,  and  the  city  does  not  wish 
to  hear  even  that.  I  am  alone  in  the  coach,  and  essay  sleep,  not 
very  successfully,  for  I  had  unwisely  been  advised  not  to  take  my 
shawl,  and  more  unwisely  had  followed  that  advice.  The  morning 
here  is  chill,  though  the  day  be  hot.  Since  I  could  not  sleep  my- 
self warm,  I  strove  to  sing  myself  thus,  and  to  admire  the  sun  ris- 
ing over  the  Queretaro  plain.  But  all  of  no  avail.  So,  believing 
the  best  way  to  conquer  any  disagreeabilities  is  to  face  them,  "  and 
by  opposing,  end  them,"  I  concluded  to  take  the  whole  dose  of 
cold,  fresh  and  full,  on  the  top  of  the  coach. 

The  first  posta  is  at  the  brisk  town  of  Silao,  where  I  mount  be- 


CONVERSATION   WITH  A   PRIEST.  3II 

hind  the  driver,  and  find  a  seat  on  the  same  shelf  occupied  by  a 
priest  dressed  in  his  robe,  beads  and  all.  It  is  the  first  sight  of 
this  sort  I  have  seen  in  the  country.  He  would  not  have  dared  to 
have  done  it  in  the  city  of  Mexico.  But  they  are  less  rigid  here 
in  respect  to  all  interdicted  matters.  They  allow  bull-fights  and 
priest's  robes,  neither  of  which  can  occur  in  the  capital. 

He  seems  clever,  this  priest,  and  is  disposed  to  be  conversa- 
tional. By  means  of  broken  English  and  Spanish,  helped  on  with 
some  broken  French  and  Latin,  we  contrive  to  get  at  each  other's 
meaning  quite  fairly.  He  informs  me  that  he  is  a  priest  of  the 
new  order  of  the  Paulists,  that  he  is  conversant  with  Greek,  He- 
brew, Italian,  and  French,  as  well  as  Spanish  ;  that  he  has  never 
been  at  Rome,  but  expects  to  go  next  year.  He  inquires  my  pro- 
fession. "A  writer  for  the  press,"  I  innocently  answer.  It  is  well 
sometimes  to  have  two  strings  to  your  bow.  But  I  add,  "  I  am  a 
Methodist."  I  meant  to  tell  half  the  ecclesiastical  truth,  if  I  shrunk 
from  telling  the  whole.  This  reserve  is  not  unwise  ;  for  Leon  is 
the  most  fanatical  of  cities  ;  and  the  knowledge  that  a  Protestant 
minister  was  entering  it,  even  as  an  observer,  would  have  been  re- 
ported to  the  bishop  before  I  had  been  fifteen  minutes  in  the  town. 
What  consequences  might  have  followed,  poor  Stevens's  fate  sug- 
gests. It  was  only  about  two  days'  ride  beyond  Leon,  in  a  less  re- 
ligious town,  that  he  was  massacred  by  order  of  the  Church  author- 
ities. By  this  semi-reticence',  too,  I  got  out  of  my  Paulist  friend 
light  that  I  should  not  otherwise  have  gained.  He  caught  at  the 
word  "  Methodist."  "  How  many  churches  have  you,"  he  said,  "in 
the  States?"  I  tell  him  there  are  six  leading  churches:  Baptist, 
Catholic,  Congregational,  Episcopal,  Methodist,  and  Presbyterian. 
He  asks  the  peculiarities  of  the  five  of  which  he  is  ignorant.  They 
are  given.  "Any  Lutherans?"  "A  few  churches  of  that  name, 
composed  principally  of  Germans."  "Any  Calvinists?"  "  Many 
of  that  faith,  but  no  church  organization  of  that  name."  "Are  not 
many  i/utifferentestas?"  I  repeat  that  word,  not  catching  its  mean- 
ing. "Yes,"  he  replies;  "no  religion,  no  faith,  no  confession, 
nothing?"     "  Yes,  there  are  some  who  are  not  Christians,  but  most 


3i2  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

have  some  religious  opinions  they  hold  to,  and  many  who  are  not 
members  of  Christian  churches  support  and  sympathize  with  them." 
Being  asked  what  objects  of  interest  were  in  Leon,  "  The  theatre, 
the  cathedral,  and  some  haciendas,"  he  answered.  "  Methodists 
never  go  to  the  theatre,"  I  replied  ;  a  remark  at  which  he  winced 
a  little,  and  perhaps  I  ought  to  have  winced  also ;  for  it  is  rather  a 
past  truth,  I  fear,  than  a  present  one,  though  it  ought  to  be  true  to- 
day as  it  was  aforetime.  He  explained  by  saying  that  it  was  archi- 
tecturally attractive. 

A  mule  displayed  his  nature  in  an  unusual  degree.  The  epizoo- 
tic had  reduced  the  working  force  of  the  road,  and  new  mules  had 
to  be  brought  on.  One  of  these  dirty  cream-colored  fellows  was 
in  the  thills.  He  was  not  disposed  to  be  conquered,  even  with  sev- 
en obedient  fellows  to  drag  him  along  in  the  path  of  duty.  He 
was  not  to  be  fooled  by  any  such  tricks,  so  he  held  steadily  back 
while  they  trotted  fast,  and  was  dragged  forward  in  spite  of  him- 
self. The  lash  and  the  stones  did  not  change  his  views  of  his  duty 
to  himself.  He  only  held  back  the  more.  It  was  a  novel  sight  to 
see  him  thus  dragged  along  by  his  collar,  his  heels  flying  in  violent 
resistance  to  his  will. 

At  last,  determined  to  end  the  contest  by  a  coup  dc  grace,  down 
he  flung  himself  on  the  ground.  The  seven  brothers  were  on  the 
full  gallop,  and  would  have  dragged  him  to  Leon.  But  he  had  cost 
too  much  to  be  used  up  that  way.  So  the  coach  is  stopped ;  the 
obstinate  chap,  after  a  deal  of  resistance,  is  got  upon  his  feet ;  a 
rope  is  tied  from  his  saddle  under  his  tail,  so  as  to  make  resistance 
less  agreeable  to  himself;  and  off  we  start  again.  He  begins  soon, 
like  Barbara  Lewthwaite's  pet  lamb,  to  pull  at  the  cord  as  bad  as 
ever.  He  spurns  the  tail  and  saddle  device,  and  after  letting  his 
legs  oppose  his  will  for  a  mile  or  two,  down  he  goes  again.  He 
has  learned  the  trick,  and  will  play  it  till  it  wins.  He  is  dragged 
fifty  to  a  hundred  feet  on  the  flinty  soil.  It  is  of  no  use.  He  will 
not  get  up  if  he  has  got  to  go  on.  "JVo  quiere"  says  the  priest  (he 
does  not  desire).  This  is  the  Spanish  way  of  putting  "he  won't." 
Pretty  evident  is  it  that  he  does  not  desire  to  conform.     So  he  is 


IN  VERDURE   CLAD.  3^ 

released,  put  into  the  hands  of  the  mozo,  and  we  are  subdued,  not 
he,  and  go  into  town  with  only  six  animals,  while  he  walks  in,  free 
of  harness  and  coach.  He  had  to  pay  for  his  liberty,  I  doubt  not, 
and  a  big  price,  too,  in  the  flogging  he  got,  and  did  not  afterward 
very  often  lie  down  in  the  middle  of  his  route. 

Is  the  mule  here  called  mula  because  of  this  force  of  will  ?  And 
did  the  word  come  from  mulier?  The  opprobrious  epithet  of  the 
parent  of  the  mule  is  never  applied  to  the  sex.  "An  ass  "  is  an 
insult  given  only  to  man.  Mula  takes  the  other  side  in  its  termi- 
nation, and  in  this  instance  forcibly  illustrated  the  saying,  "When 
she  won't,  she  won't,  and  there's  an  end  on  it."  No  quiere  settles 
many  another  attempt  on  the  part  of  driving  man  to  bring  the  oth- 
er and  higher  creature  into  subjection. 

The  mountain  ranges  on  each  side  are  about  ten  miles  apart. 
The  plain  is  very  level,  and  most  of  it  very  fertile  and  highly  culti- 
vated. The  hills  are  full  of  silver,  quicksilver,  and  other  precious 
minerals,  so  my  brother-priest  informs  me,  but  can  not  tell  why  they 
are  so  little  mined.  They  are  awaiting  a  people  who  can  make 
them  unveil  their  charms.  "No  quiere"  they  say  to-day,  and  their 
human  masters  respect  their  wishes,  showing  thereby  that  they  are 
not  their  masters.  It  will  not  be  so  always.  Either  these  or  oth- 
ers will  subject  these  mountains  to  their  sway,  and  compel  their 
gorges  to  disgorge  their  treasures  of  ages. 

The  fields  lie  very  lovely  to  the  eye,  outspreading  in  their  ever- 
lasting verdure,  fed  perpetually  by  streams  from  the  mountains ; 
the  beds  and  roadside  glowing  in  tulips,  roses,  violets,  and  many  a 
strange  beauty  none  the  less  beautiful  for  her  novelty.  Wheat,  al- 
falfa, barley,  and  corn  are  making  glad  the  heart  of  man  by  their 
abundant  growth.  Haciendas  claim  immense  territory  on  the  left, 
but  on  the  right  the  soil  is  cut  up  among  little  proprietors,  or  at 
least  those  who  can  lease  and  cultivate  a  few  rods  in  comparative 
independence. 

Leon  draws  near,  spread  out  at  the  base  of  a  range  of  hills  that 
terminates  the  valley.     The  older  Indians  and  the  children  note 

the  priestly  dress  and  take  off  their  hats  in   reverence  ;  but  the 

2  r 


3 14  01' A'  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

young  men,  I  note,  are  less  respectful.  At  first  I  thought  it  was  a 
politeness  meant  for  me  also,  and  returned  the  obeisance  ;  but  I 
soon  found  it  was  for  the  higher  being  by  whose  side  I  rode. 

We  cross  a  bridge  and  drive  through  the  calzada  —  a  finely 
shaded  avenue,  with  drives  either  side,  and  a  walk  and  benches  in 
the  middle.  Along  the  benches  loungers  are  sitting,  and  market- 
women  are  selling  lettuce,  which  is  the  chief  esculent,  seemingly, 
here.  It  grows  very  large,  and  the  outer  leaves  are  torn  off  and 
thrown  away.  The  inside  ones  are  pressed  together,  and  the  tall, 
compact  bunch  of  delicate  white  and  green  looks  good  enough  to 
eat,  and  is  as  good  as  it  looks.  They  sometimes  put  tulips  and 
roses  and  other  flowers  in  the  top  of  these  bunches,  and  thereby 
increase  their  attraction  to  the  eye,  but  not  to  the  palate. 

A  Sister  of  Charity  here,  as  everywhere  else,  hideously  dressed, 
has  a  bevy  of  school-girls  on  the  calzada  for  recreation.  The  Ro- 
man Church  has  not  lost  all  its  wits  yet.  These  fine-looking  young 
ladies  will  cling  to  the  nun  and  priest,  and  the  young  men  will 
cling  to  them.  Only  a  great  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Ghost  can 
open  the  eyes  of  this  land  by  taking  the  veil  from  off  their  hearts. 

The  hot  streets  are  run  through  in  our  usual  Gilpin  style,  and 
we  are  reined  up  sharp  at  the  door  of  the  Hotel  Diligencias. 

I  bid  adios  to  my  friend,  the  priest  of  the  order  of  Paul,  and  go 
out  to  conquer  the  town.  It  is  soon  done.  He  told  me  the  truth. 
Only  the  cathedral,  the  front  of  the  theatre,  and  some  haciendas. 
The  last  it  is  too  hot  to  visit;  the  first  is  looked  into,  the  second 
looked  upon.  I  am  in  for  a  day  here.  There  is  no  return  stage 
till  to-morrow  at  eleven.  So  I  wander  through  the  market-place, 
a  dull  spot,  and  soon  exhausted  ;  where  brass  coin  is  all  their  cur- 
rency. Guanajuato  touches  nothing  but  silver.  The  plaza  holds 
me  longer.  It  has  a  very  rich  tropical  garden,  banana-trees,  or- 
ange, and  flowers  of  every  hue.  It  has  also  around  it  broad  shaded 
arcades  lined  with  shops  and  stores.  Nowhere  have  I  seen  so 
much  of  a  display  of  dry  goods.  A  whole  side  of  the  square  is 
lined  with  these  stores,  and  very  fair  in  their  attractions  they  are. 

The  cathedral  is  after  the  usual  sort,  and  not  especially  ornate. 


BLASPHEMY  AND  PERVERSION.  315 

Its  specialty  is  blasphemy.  Dancing  girls,  with  their  skirts  open  to 
the  knee,  are  placed  over  the  altar  as  the  angels  of  the  sepulchre 
or  something,  and  over  all  is  the  image  of  God  the  Father,  a  gray- 
bearded  old  man,  with  the  triangle  of  gold,  sign  of  the  Trinity,  over 
his  head.  No  wonder  the  first  spelling-book  for  children,  with  its 
alphabet  and  a-b,  ab,  condenses  the  Ten  Commandments,  and  puts 
the  first  one  thus  :  "Amaras  a  Dios  sobre  todas  las  cosas  "  (Thou 
shalt  love  God  above  all  things).  That  is  the  whole  of  it.  Not 
a  hint  about  this  idolatry,  which  the  original  expressly  prohibits. 
The  commands  of  Sinai  are  perverted  to  their  own  idolatries.  I 
bought  this  little  tract  in  the  market-place.  It  is  sold  by  hundreds 
of  thousands,  and  that  is  the  way  the  Church  wrests  the  Scriptures, 
may  it  not  be  added,  "  to  her  own  destruction  ?" 

The  tedium  of  the  clay  was  greatly  relieved  by  a  horseback  ride 
with  an  English  resident,  Mr.  George  Gray.  I  found  out  him  and 
his  brother,  both  bachelors,  one  a  clock -maker,  one  a  machinist, 
sons  of  a  mine-worker  who  came  out  some  forty  years  ago.  The 
clock  vender  said  business  was  dull.  "Yankees  like  a  clock  in 
the  house ;  Mexicans,  a  saint,"  he  said,  half  bitingly.  But  what 
use  have  they  for  clocks  ?     Time  is  of  no  account  with  them. 

His  brother  takes  me  to  ride  ;  that  is,  lends  me  a  horse,  and  goes 
with  me.  We  drive  among  the  small  proprietors,  to  the  east  and 
north  of  the  town.  The  gardens  are  green  with  irrigation.  They 
are  full  of  esculents,  with  iittle  patches  of  flowers  among  their  hon- 
est lettuce  and  maize,  like  a  pretty  and  not  useless  child  among  her 
industrious  associates.  It  is  difficult  to  raise  wheat  here.  The  land 
has  to  be  flooded  with  water  for  a  long  time,  and  otherwise  care- 
fully nurtured,  and  then  it  produces  but  little.  Better  exchange  its 
silver  for  Minnesota's  wheat.     Both  will  profit  by  the  change. 

Here  are  large  fields  laid  clown  to  chilli,  a  sort  of  pepper, 
almost  the  only  condiment  with  their  beans  and  cakes.  Others 
are  green,  very,  with  alfalfa,  or  lucern,  the  favorite  green  food  for 
mules  and  horses.  It  looks  a  little  like  clover,  though  seemingly 
richer  and  juicier.  Many  pastures  are  brown,  awaiting  the  rain 
of  heaven,  and  not  that  from  the  ground.     Wells  are  busy.     They 


M6  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

are  dug  two  and  two,  together  or  opposite.  The  swinging  sweeps, 
which  once  existed  generally  in  the  North,  here  stand  together  or 
over  against  each  other,  and  the  boys  are  plying  them  all  day  long. 
Thus  the  fields  are  always  producing,  and  Nature  never  rests,  if 
man  often  does. 

An  old  woman  with  a  long  stick  having  a  knife  on  the  end  is 
cutting  green  buds  from  the  prickly-pear  (the  nopal)  that  lines  the 
roadside.  "  She  is  getting  fish  of  the  fence,"  said  my  friend.  Not 
allowed  to  eat  meat  in  Lent,  they  gather  these  buds,  and  cook  them 
as  a  substitute.  Hence  this  saying.  The  nopal  is  the  fencing 
stuff  of  the  country.  It  grows  in  orchards,  grows  along  the  way- 
side, wild  and  cultivated.  It  is  as  homely  as  the  ass,  of  which  it  is 
the  vegetable  counterpart  in  universality,  ugliness,  and  utility. 

It  has  one  redeeming  feature,  as  has  also  that  creature.  Its 
blossoms  are  beautiful.  Seldom  does  one  see  more  exquisite  and 
delicate  tints  than  break  out  all  over  these  horrid  bushes,  and  sel- 
dom does  one  see  so  exquisite  and  delicate  a  leg  and  foot  on  beast 
or  bird,  or  man  himself,  as  concludes  with  a  good  ending  the  ex- 
ceedingly bad  beginning  of  the  ass.  It  is  straight,  small,  delicate, 
a  natural  Chinese  beauty  of  ankle  and  hoof.  The  finest  horse's 
leg  and  foot  are  coarse  to  it.  So,  if  you  will  only  look  for  it,  you 
will  find  some  redeeming  trait  in  every  creature  of  God.  But  this 
trait  often  makes  the  others  more  homely.  Glance  from  a  don- 
key's legs  to  his  head  and  ears,  and  you  are  amazed  at  the  terri- 
bleness  of  that  opposite  termination.  You  can  not  see  how  the 
two  could  possibly  exist  in  the  same  creature.  You  even  believe 
it  to  be  a  cursed  degradation.  It  must  be  witchery.  It  can  not 
be  nature.  So  the  nopal  seems  the  uglier  as  you  turn  from  its  del- 
icate blossoms  to  its  leather  lap-stone  leaf  and  ungainly  trunk,  and 
general  asinine  vegetable  humiliation. 

But  each  serves  quietly,  says  nothing,  and  waits  patiently  the 
hour  when  the  fairy  curse  shall  be  removed,  or  that  unfairy  curse 
resting  on  all  creation,  the  curse  of  sin,  of  Eden,  and  of  man,  and 
they  shall  have  a  complete  symmetry  after  the  exquisite  fragments 
and  indices  that  each  now  possesses. 


A  PUBLIC  FUNERAL. 


317 


We  ride  home  among  Indian  huts,  in  a  delicious  sun-setting,  un- 
der greenest  of  trees  and  among  corresponding  verdure.  Along 
the  banks  of  the  almost  waterless  river,  boys  are  flying  kites,  and 
women  washing  their  few  garments.  A  frock  is  on  a  bush,  and  a 
lady,  in  her  reboza  alone,  is  sitting  in  the  stream,  awaiting  the  dry- 
ing of  her  tunic.  The  dogs  and  children  are  enjoying  themselves, 
as  much,  perhaps,  as  if  they  were  the  children  and  dogs  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales  or  President  Grant.     Possibly  more. 


in 

'^INMHl 


lliy&IlIP W  * 

1A  wMmsm^M'i  wis 


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MS&- 


FUNERAL  OF  GOVERNOR  MANUEL  DOBLADO. 

We  pass  down  a  long  street  of  one-storied  houses.  They  are  all 
of  that  height.  Not  six  in  the  city  are  two-storied.  The  widow  of 
Governor  Don  Manuel  Doblado  occupies  one  of  the  former  sort. 
He  died  in  New  York,  and  it  is  thought  would  have  been  president 
had  he  lived.  Her  house  is  spacious,  and  has  every  luxury,  includ- 
ing that  best  of  luxuries,  its  height.  A  very  sumptuous  funeral  was 
granted  him  in  Guanajuato,  as  he  deserved. 

Most  of  the  houses  are  very  poor,  and  the  people  look  poorer 


3i8  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

than  the  houses.  Many  are  empty,  the  houses,  and  people  probably 
also.  Hither  come  thousands  from  San  Luis  Potosi,  Queretaro, 
Guadilajara,  and  other  points,  when  revolutions  roll;  for  the  gov- 
ernor of  this  State  will  have  peace  if  he  has  to  fight  for  it.  It  is 
the  State  of  Guanajuato,  and  that  city  gives  the  nerve  that  gives 
the  peace. 

The  next  morning  I  attended  high  mass.  It  was  St.  Joseph's 
day,  and  held  in  high  remembrance.  So  the  bishop  is  out  in  his 
full  and  faded  costume.  A  large  number  receive  the  wafer.  A 
red-jacketed  boy,  followed  the  priest  who  gave  the  wafer,  present- 
ing something  like  a  love-feast  ticket.  Was  it  one?  Have  they 
revived  that  lost  art  of  Methodism  ?  When  the  bishop  entered,  the 
crowd,  dreadfully  ragged  and  poor  as  most  of  them  were,  kneeled 
down  the  whole  length  of  the  church,  making  a  narrow  lane  each 
side  of  him,  and  he  stretched  out  his  hands  for  them  to  kiss  as  he 
moved  up  to  the  altar.  How  eagerly  they  clutched  at  them !  I 
saw  one  old  woman  get  the  seal-ring  to  her  lips.  She  looked  as  if 
she  had  touched  heaven.  I  have  seen  others  than  uneducated  pa- 
pists overworship  their  minister,  but  never  so  believingly  and  de- 
voutly as  these. 

The  ceremony  is  after  the  usual  spread-eagle  sort.  A  great 
crowd  kneel  at  the  beginning,  but  they  come  and  go,  and  the  shift- 
ing performance  moves  forward  before  a  more  shifting  congrega- 
tion. This  is  the  bishop  who  has  since  refused  to  obey  the  laws 
of  the  State  enforcing  toleration,  and  has  called  on  his  people  to 
resist  those  laws.  His  ignorant  followers  could  be  easily  worked 
up  to  persecution.*  What  would  he  have  said  had  it  been  told  him 
that  among  the  spectators  of  his  performances  that  morning  was 
a  minister  of  the  anti-Roman  Church,  meditating  on  the  coming  es- 
tablishment of  his  Church  in  this  city,  and  the  extinction  of  this 
ruin  of- souls  and  faith  in  that  purer  doctrine  and  life?  Had  he# 
suspected  so  much,  or  had  our  priest  of  the  coach-top  dreamed  it, 
there  would  have  been  small  chance  of  that  minister's  having  had 

*  See  Appendix  A. 


SENSELESS  LDOLATRY.  319 

much  to  do  with  that  reformation.     Would  not  that  crowd  have 
leaped  on  him,  and  sent  him  swift  to  Hades  ? 

Around  the  uppermost  balcony  of  the  church  are  shields  of 
green,  with  words  in  gold  upon  them.  One  whole  side  is  appro- 
priated to  Mary  directly ;  the  rest  possibly  incidentally.  Among 
her  shields  are  those  with  these  inscriptions :  "  Mater  Creatoris," 
"Mater  Salvatoris,"  "Virgo  Potens,"  "Virgo  Clemens "  (Mother 
of  the  Creator,  of  the  Saviour,  Virgin  Powerful,  Merciful).  The  cen- 
tral and  primal  and  ultimate  idea  of  every  motto  is  the  Virgin. 
As  if  to  refer  all  this  to  her,  and  give  her  at  once  divine  honors,  all 
the  opposite  side  has  such  phrases  as  these  :  "  Secies  Sapientiae," 
"  Causa  Nostras  Lsetitiae,"  "  Fcedaris  Area,"  "  Janua  Cceli,"  "  Refu- 
gio Peccatorum,"  "  Stella  Matutina  "  (Seat  of  Wisdom,  Cause  of 
our  Joy,  Ark  of  Faith,  Gate  of  Heaven,  Refuge  of  Sinners,  Morn- 
ing Star). 

These  may  refer  to  the  Church  herself,  and  not  to  Mary.  But  be- 
low, at  an  altar,  she  is  called  "  Refugio  Peccatorum,"  one  of  the  very 
phrases  found  up  here  also.  There  is  no  hint  that  this  is  not  in- 
tended. If  so,  then  see  how  high  a  pitch  of  idolatry  these  priests 
and  bishops  have  been  guilty  of,  are  guilty  of  to-day,  in  thus  ascrib- 
ing all  the  work  of  salvation  to  Mary.  The  people  believe  it  is  so, 
whether  they  have  themselves  a  sense  by  which  they  can  escape  or 
not.  The  crowd  have  none.  The  Church  is  the  Church  of  the 
Virgin  ;  with  her  they  rise  or  fall. 

A  little  image  of  the  Virgin  and  the  Child  was  being  carried  to 
a  village  by  a  few  of  its  men,  to  grace  a  feast  there.  We  passed  it 
on  our  way  back.  On  their  shoulders  they  bore  it,  in  a  white  box 
closed  on  all  sides  but  the  front,  set  off  with  flowers.  It  was  sheer 
idolatry.  Leon's  cathedral  has  its  graven  god  and  worshiped  wom- 
an, and  poor  ragged  wretches  for  an  audience.  When  will  it  re- 
ceive the  true  Gospel  ?  Not  without  difficulty.  They  are  very  fa- 
natical, these  poor  people.  A  German  came  here  to  preach,  and 
they  threatened  him  with  a  coat  of  tar  and  feathers,  and  he  did  not 
open  his  lips.  They  were  the  most  reverential  to  the  priests  of  any 
city  I  have  been  in.     As  I  stood  among  the  kneeling  crowds  of  the 


j20  OCR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

cathedral,  I  noted  more  than  one  lowering  countenance.  Large 
numbers  are  at  the  earliest  orisons  and  the  latest  vespers.  The 
bells  clang  all  day  long.  It  is  church,  church,  and  nothing  but 
church.  There  will  be  a  big  fight  here  before  this  Diana  of  Leon 
is  dethroned.  But  it  will  come.  These  poor  people  inwardly  sigh 
for  a  happy  Christian  experience.  How  happy  they  would  be  if 
they  once  experienced  it !  How  they  would  throw  off  their  rags 
and  rejoice  in  a  religion  that  lifted  up  soul  and  body !  Pray  for 
Leon,  the  city  of  superstition,  that  she  may  pre-eminently  be  the 
city  of  faith. 

Gladly  is  the  coach  welcomed  the  next  morning,  and  the  ride  is 
taken,  hot  and  dusty,  to  Guanajuato. 


INDIAN  DANCERS. 


321 


V. 

A  HORSEBACK  RIDE   OVER   THE  SILVER  MOUNT- 
AINS. 

Indian  Dancing  and  Gambling. — A  sleeping  City. — Wood  and  Coal  Carriers. 
— Mineral  de  la  Luz. — A  Mountain  Nest. — Sometimes  up,  sometimes  down. 
— Berrying  and  Burying. — The  Apple-tree  among  the  Trees  of  the  Wood. — 
Off  the  Track. — A  funereal  Tread.— Lunch  in  the  Air. — The  Plunge. — A 
Napola  Orchard. — Out  on  the  Plains. — Valley  of  the  Sancho. 

I  am  so  tired  with  fifty  miles  of  horsebacking  that  I  would  glad- 
ly get  to  sleep,  especially  as  I  have  to  be  up  by  three,  and  off  again 
at  four.  But  the  sound  of  guitars  and  harps  in  the  open  court 
without  our  quarters,  to  which  Indian  girls  are  dancing,  prevents 
that  luxury.  They  must  be  very  busy  by  the  unceasing  sounds 
that  flow  into  my  open  window.  It  is  an  Indian  festa  purely,  nei- 
ther Spanish  nor  Romish  seeming  to  interfere  with  it.  It  is  prob- 
ably as  ancient  as  any  Aztec  event  now  in  vogue.  A  half-dozen 
tents  have  a  girl  or  two  each,  trained  to  great  nimbleness  of  toes 
and  heels,  who  skip  double  and  quadruple  measure  and  all  sorts 
of  shuffles  to  the  quick  time  of  the  harp,  singing,  in  Indian,  a  mur- 
murous accompaniment  to  the  steps.  The  lookers-on  can  partici- 
pate with  her  for  a  real  a  round.  Of  course  there  are  plenty  of 
men  of  all  ages  ready  to  pay  their  "bit."  So  the  old  folks  earn 
much  money  out  of  the  feet  of  their  daughters. 

Walking  round  these  booths,  I  was  invited  by  one  of  these  ven- 
erable fathers  to  enter  his  shed.  I  assented,  not  knowing  whither 
I  went,  for  I  had  not  yet  spelled  out  the  purport  of  the  festa.  He 
gave  me  the  seat  of  honor,  fronting  the  outside  crowd.  I  soon  saw 
the  incongruity  of  my  position,  but  was  withheld  from  disturbing 
the  meeting.  It  was  the  first  ball  I  had  seen  since  I  was  sixteen, 
when  I  had  sat  through  the  night  a  looker-on,  as  now.     I  was  soon 


322  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

relieved  of  my  unwilling  bondage  to  courtesy.  I  retreated  to  the 
rear  of  the  gazing  crowd  in  good  order.  In  the  midst  of  the  whirl, 
at  my  feet  lay  two  small  dogs,  a  white  and  a  black,  nose  to  nose, 
fast  asleep.  Two  children,  also  white  and  black,  I  saw  at  a  South- 
ern school  festival,  lying  on  a  seat  in  like  position,  head  to  head, 
fast  asleep.  Each  suggested  peace  and  fraternity  among  both  dogs 
and  men,  and  no  distinction  on  account  of  color. 

The  dancing-girl  was  modest  in  her  goings,  which  Christian  (?) 
dancers  are  not.  She  allowed  her  partners  none  of  the  immodest 
privileges  of  the  waltz  and  polka,  and  kept  her  dignity  both  of  car- 
riage and  conduct.  The  ballet  troupes,  cancan,  and  even  the  fash- 
ionable dancing  of  city  balls  are  far  less  chaste.  Civilization  could 
get  civilized  at  these  festas. 

Gambling  was  going  on  as  busily  as  dancing.  Groups  sitting  on 
the  ground  were  rapidly  losing  their  centavos  to  the  cool  heads 
that  held  the  pool.  Thus  the  earnings  of  the  girls  slipped  through 
their  fathers'  fingers  into  the  hands  of  the  Aztec  John  Oakhursts, 
who  probably,  like  him  of  California,  were  exceedingly  honorable 
to  those  they  robbed,  and  so  might  well  be  portrayed  by  the  over- 
turners  of  morality  as  the  saints  of  their  tribe. 

This  show  saluted  me  on  arriving  at  this  hacienda,  after  a  long, 
wearisome,  but  repaying  ride.  Let  us  get  away  from  these  poor 
creatures  into  the  grand  mountains,  and  draw  from  them  the  rest 
and  strength  the  god-like  creature  man  can  not  bestow. 

It  was  hardly  day-break  when  I  mounted  my  horse,  and  rode 
through  the  silent  streets  of  Guanajuato — silent  only  for  the  little 
season  from  midnight  to  sunrise  ;  for  no  town  of  equal  bustle  have 
I  seen  in  Mexico,  and  not  many  in  the  United  States.  Romantic 
in  situation,  and  full  of  movement,  it  is  one  of  the  places  one 
craves  to  see  again. 

We  climb  up  the  stone  stairs,  up  and  up,  steep  almost  as  the  side 
of  a  house,  looking  down  on  the  sleeping  city  with  its  fifty  thousand 
souls.  What  is  more  lonely  than  a  great  city  with  all  its  people 
asleep  ?  I  have  trembled  with  awe  as  that  thought  has  struck  me 
in  a  crowded  population.     All,  as  it  were,  dead  !     Every  house  has 


A    CHURCH  ON  A    CLIFF.  323 

not  only  one,  as  did  the  Egyptian,  but  all  dead.  The  rich  are  as 
poor  as  the  poorest,  perhaps  poorer,  in  their  dreams  ;  the  poor  rich 
as  the  richest,  perhaps  the  richer  in  their  dreams.  The  whole 
life  wiped  out,  and  as  though  it  had  never  been.  Ah,  if  only  that 
unconsciousness  could  come  after  death,  which  some  so  anxiously 
seek  to  detect  in  the  Word  of  God,  but  detect  it  not — an  everlast- 
ing sleep  —  it  would  be  a  relief  to  the  sinner!  But  it  is  not  the 
revealed  will  of  God  thus  to  give  relief  to  the  sinner.  He  must 
dwell  in  his  own  consciousness.  He  that  is  filthy  shall  be  filthy 
still.  The  lustful,  the  revengeful,  the  miserly,  he  shall  still  be 
possessed  of  his  own  passions.  The  saintly  wife  sleeping  by  the 
sinful  husband  may  know  no  difference  in  this  unconscious  state  ; 
but  the  first  breath  of  the  awakening  morn  reveals  to  each  no  more 
clearly  their  existence  than  it  does  their  character.  The  saintly 
one  is  still  saintly,  the  sinful,  sinful.  The  first  thought  of  one  is 
a  prayer,  of  the  second,  an  oath.  Before  the  lips  are  awakened 
the  mind  is,  and  the  heart,  and  out  of  their  abundance  the  mouth 
speaks.     So  will  the  slumber  of  the  grave  be  broken. 

Eternity  is  not  a  sleep  of  the  righteous  or  of  the  wicked,  nor  is  it 
the  sleep  of  one  and  not  of  the  other.  They  are  alike  in  their  con- 
sciousness, as  at  the  beginning;  alike  in  their  free  choice;  alike 
in  their  corresponding  liberty  of  action  ;  alike  in  their  inward  con- 
stitution ;  alike  forever  in  heaven,  forever  in  hell. 

A  mile  or  more  up,  and  we  enter  a  little  suburb,  whose  church, 
perched  on  a  scarfed  cliff,  looks  down  the  gorge  into  the  city,  and 
out  far  away  into  the  valleys  that  open  on  Leon  and  Queretaro. 
How  apt  in  location  of  their  churches  this  Church  ever  is,  apt  for 
effect,  not  always  for  utility !  Here  they  combine,  and  the  centre 
of  the  hamlet  is  the  key  of  the  landscape. 

Still  up  we  go,  meeting  at  this  gray  hour  the  descending  labor- 
ers. Who  is  this  coming  forth  to  meet  us,  with  his  coffin  on  his 
back,  or  the  coffin  of  some  Goliath  of  the  mountains?  It  towers  a 
yard  above  his  head,  and  goes  down  his  back  to  within  a  foot  of 
his  heels.  If  my  fears  had  not  pretty  nearly  given  out  by  lack 
of  any  success  in  the  employment  of  them  (every  attempt  having 


324  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

been  a  failure),  I  might  have  got  up  a  little  excitement  over  this 
apparition.  As  it  is,  I  calmly  await  its  coming.  It  proves  to  be  a 
wood-carrier,  and  the  coffin  is  a  length  of  corded  wood,  lashed  to- 
gether in  a  symmetric  and  solid  shape,  and  stretching  out  its  eight 
or  ten  feet,  two  feet  in  width,  a  burden  not  easily  to  be  borne,  one 
is  sure,  though  these  men,  old  and  young,  seem  to  carry  it  lightly. 
They  bend  under  it,  and  take  a  staff  to  stay  their  steps  down  the 
headlong  descent.  They,  however,  have  erectness  enough  to  rec- 
ognize us,  and  give  and  get  grateful  "Adios."  The  charcoal  burn- 
ers follow  the  fagot  bearers.  There  are  degrees  in  every  thing. 
A  fagot  is  less  than  a  straight  stick,  but  above  a  chip  and  a  knot. 
The  latter  go  into  coal,  which  goes  down  behind  its  aristocratic 
kinsman. 

"Every  thing's  nothing  except  by  position." 

They  are  compactly  and  prettily  arranged.  Bound  together  with 
nets  and  with  wisps  of  green  grass,  arranged  along  the  level  side, 
which  is  laid  against  the  back,  they  look  ornamental  even,  and 
make  the  charcoalist  a  florist.  Why  not?  His  stuff  is  diamonds 
in  disguise.     Why  should  not  its  arrangement  be  crystalline  ? 

The  rise  of  the  sun  and  of  the  path  set  the  city  below,  and  the 
mountains  above,  and  the  plains  beyond  in  clearer  light.  The  town, 
romantic  from  every  point,  is  not  the  least  so  from  this  hill-top  look- 
ing clown.  It  is  waking  up,  too,  and  the  sound  comes  up  hither  of 
the  crushing  mills  grinding  the  rocks  into  powder,  of  the  water 
washing  the  powder  into  mud,  of  the  mules  treading  the  mud 
into  chemical  mire,  and  of  the  furnaces  evolving  the  chemicals,  and 
burning  the  white  metal  out  of  its  ancient,  and  as  it  perhaps  had 
thought,  eternal,  companions.  The  street-cries,  the  rattling  carts, 
the  living  man  awakening  from  his  death,  and  coming  out  of  his 
grave  the  same  that  he  went  in — all  these  salute  us  with  the  break- 
ing of  the  light  over  the  mountains  ;  at  least  so  far  as  these  sounds 
can  reach  the  ever-ascending  sense. 

Not  far  to  the  west,  on  one  of  the  peaks,  lies  a  white  cluster, 
called  the  Mineral  de  la  Luz,  or  Luz  alone,  as  these  Yankeeized 
Mexicans  cut  it  clown.     It  is  a  famous  mine,  not  now  in  its  best 


AN  EAGLE'S  NEST.  325 

working  order,  but  its  yield  has  been  wonderful ;  and  draining  of 
superfluous  water  will  doubtless  restore  it  to  its  former  pre-emi- 
nence of  value  akin  to  its  pre-eminence  of  position. 

All  around  us  rise  these  peaks  of  brown  and  gray,  tall,  even 
though  their  base  is  far  above  the  snow-line  of  the  Alps,  and  of 
every  variety  of  shape,  sharp,  round,  crater-like,  cleft  and  gashed 
by  the  creative  knife  (as  proper  a  figure  as  the  "  creative  chisel," 
which  has  long  been  a  stock-tool  of  the  paragraphists).  They  are 
all  probably  full  of  silver,  as  the  vast  subterranean  chambers  of  the 
chief  mine  of  Guanajuato  clearly  illustrate.  But  the  expense  of  dig- 
ging is  costly.  Mining  is  no  luxurious  idling,  but  steady  and  slow, 
with  small  sains.  So  these  mountains  await  the  men  that  are  rot  to 
be  put  off  by  any  coyness  or  resistance,  but  will  compel  them  to  yield 
up  their  treasures.  It  is  not  the  kingdom  of  heaven  only  that  suf- 
fereth  violence,  and  which  the  violent  take  by  force ;  it  is  every 
valuable  kingdom,  whether  of  wealth  or  wisdom,  of  place  or  power, 
of  reform  or  religion. 

The  sun  comes  up  as  we  go  down  into  the  first  of  the  valleys 
beyond  this  ridge,  so  many  of  which  we  must  descend  into  and  as- 
cend out  of  ere  the  long  looked -for  hacienda  appears.  Over  to 
our  left,  perched  on  the  side  hill,  high  up  among  the  clouds,  is  a 
pretty  bit  of  a  village,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten,  that  is  the 
home  of  the  charcoal  venders  and  wood-cutters,  as  pretty  an  eagle's 
nest  as  one  often  sees ;  at  least,  at  the  distance  of  the  mile  or  so 
which  we  are  from  it.  Perhaps,  like  other  eagle's  nests,  it  would 
hardly  bear  examination. 

We  take  our  last  glimpse  of  the  city  beneath  us,  the  hills  hug- 
ging it  and  bending  over  it,  like  a  mother,  or  a  dozen  of  mothers, 
fondling  a  childling.  The  plains  of  Queretaro  and  Leon  glisten  in 
the  morning  slantings,  and  Luz,  like  that  of  eld,  sits  at  the  top  of 
the  land,  glowing  like  the  silver  at  its  bottom,  responsive  to  the 
coming  clay. 

When  I  was  a  lad,  I  remember  hearing  a  good  brother  of  lim- 
ited variety  of  tones  and  themes  engage  in  prayer.  He  almost  al- 
ways had  in  his  petitions  this  verse,  expressed  in  a  peculiar  rising 


326  Of  A'   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

.md  falling  sing-song.     If  the  printers  will  help  me,  I  will  try  and 
put  the  very  tones  in  type : 


& 


%  ^         % 


So,  as  we  ascended  and  descended,  I  thought  of  the  good  broth- 
er's sing-song  verse,  and  hoped  that  his  successful  accomplishment 
of  his  purpose,  for  he  has  long  been  in  glory,  might  be  not  only 
exemplified  in  this  minor  effort,  but  in  the  major  and  maxima  ones 
that  absorb  the  whole  life  and  being. 

We  had  been  going  up,  up,  up  ;  now  we  go  down,  down,  downy. 
Far  below  the  level  of  our  original  point  of  departure  we  plunge, 
sliding  down  on  the  close-set  feet  of  the  safe  little  Mexican  horse, 
plunging  through  more  than  one  degree  of  latitude. 

The  top  gave  us  the  high  blue-berry  bush  just  blossoming,  a  dear 
reminder  of  boyish  tramps  in  Lynde's  Woods,  yet  uncut,  but  every 
day  in  danger  of  the  knife  of  the  spoiler.  May  some  good  provi- 
dence turn  them  to  a  use  that  shall  perpetuate  both  their  memories 
and  their  berries  !  A  big  town,  well-nigh  a  city,  is  growing  to  them. 
If  it  would  only  appropriate  them  to  a  cemetery,  how  happy  would 
one  wanderer  be  to  come  and  haunt  them  occasionally  while  living, 
and  to  sleep  under  them  at  the  last,  in  age,  even  as  he  has  slept 
under  them  often  in  happy  days  of  a  vanished  childhood,  awaiting 
the  call  of  the  clarion  of  the  resurrection.  Grand  old  trees,  dear 
high  blue-berry  bushes,  lowly  huckleberry  bushes,  not  the  less  love- 
ly for  your  sweet  humility. 

"  The  lark  that  soars  the  nearest  heaven 
Builds  on  the  ground  his  lowly  nest." 

So  these  humble  bushes,  where  we  sat  and  picked  and  laughed, 
and  strove  as  to  who  should  first  fill  his  pail,  and  broke  them  in 
big  armfuls,  and  took  them  to  the  shelter  of  the  big  trees  for  cool- 
er stripping,  how  your  black  eyes  now  beam  upon  me,  little  lus- 


"AMONG    THE    TREES   OE   THE    WOOD:'  337 

cious  beads  of  light  and  life,  through  these  long,  long  years!  Ah, 
save,  oh  good  fathers  of  my  old  home  town,  save  us  the  Lynde's 
Woods,  where  we  so  often  went  a-berrying,  for  our  own  time-long 
burying.  What  a  life-pleasure  a  boy  bred  in  the  country  has  over 
the  city  lad  who  only  visits  it  on  vacation  !  It  is  a  joy  and  strength, 
all  his  days  ;  none  the  less  so,  if  his  after-life  is  passed  among  brick 
walls  and  stone  pavements  which  give  scarce  a  glimpse  of  either 
earth  or  heaven. 

This  high  blue-berry  bush  on  this  high  Mexic  mountain  has  set 
me  off  on  a  high  horse  that  is  in  danger  of  throwing  me  ;  for  senti- 
ment is  the  last  thing  any  body  allows  in  any  body  else  but  them- 
selves. Balance  is  restored  by  the  venerable  nopal,  better  known 
as  cactus,  that  stands  stiff  and  changeless  among  these  Northern 
reminders.  No  cactus  is  found  by  New  England  roadsides  and 
country  lanes.  This  is  tropical  and  new.  It  is  of  yesterday  to  the 
land,  but  of  to-day  to  the  traveler.  He  can  not  shed  imaginary 
tears  over  its  earlier  suggestions.  The  laurel  is  also  here,  begin 
ning  to  put  forth  those  pinky-white  buddings  that  shall  soon  burst 
into  complete  blossomings.  So  the  North  country  again  appears, 
though  this  crown  of  poets  and  favorite  of  Apollo  is  a  Greek  rather 
than  a  Yankee. 

The  bottom  of  the  hill  brings  us  to  a  cluster  of  huts  perched  on 
the  steep  side  of  the  opposite  mountain.  We  pace  along  its  base 
for  some  distance,  enjoying  the  odor  of  its  flowers,  cultivated  and 
wild,  and  especially  the  bloom  and  balm  of  its  apple-trees.  These 
are  bursting  into  flower,  not  the  broad,  grand,  full  blossom  of  the 
North,  where  it  really  belongs,  but  still  of  the  old  blush  and  bloom. 
They  are  scattered  all  along  the  river's  edge,  where  only  wild  trees 
besides  are  found  ;  and,  amidst  the  flowerless  and  odorless  boughs 
of  ash  and  birch  and  oak  and  nopal,  one  feels  more  than  ever  the 
force  of  that  compliment  and  comparison  which  the  love-lorn  wife 
pays  her  husband,  in  the  song  of  songs  which  is  Solomon's,  "As 
the  apple-tree  among  the  trees  of  the  wood,  so  is  my  beloved 
among  the  sons."  One  sees  the  exquisite  beauty  of  that  compli 
ment  in  these  gorges  of  the  Cordilleras,  where  the  apple-tree  stands 

2: 


,28  OUR  X EXT- DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

among  the  trees  of  the  wood,  clad  in  its  many-colored  robe,  fra- 
grant with  that  odor  that  gives  it  the  headship  in  sweetness  over 
all  the  trees  of  the  garden.  It  is  not  impossible  that  this  is  the 
very  tree  of  which  Eve  partook,  and  that  its  Edenic  supremacy  is  # 
still  not  largely  lost.  Whether  so  or  no,  the  loving  wife  was  right 
in  her  comparison,  and  this  wood  proves  true,  in  that  respect,  that 
song  of  monogamy  by  a  polygamic  transgressor,  that  song  of  the 
spiritual  longings  and  lovings  of  the  Church  and  her  husband,  the 
Christ :  "As  the  apple-tree  among  the  trees  of  the  wood,  so  is  m) 
beloved  among  the  sons." 

We  cross  the  brook  we  had  sauntered  near  so  long,  and  pull  up 
a  steep  grade  ;  in  fact,  get  off  and  pull  our  horses  up,  it  is  so  steep. 
The  road  becomes  less  and  less  a  road,  and  my  guide  is  bewil- 
dered. He  has  lost  his  path.  It  is  the  second  time  already,  and 
we  not  a  quarter  of  our  journey  done.  Across  the  ravine  he  spies 
a  wood-cutter,  and  speaks  softly  to  him.  It  is  remarkable  how  low 
a  voice  they  use  in  making  inquiries.  His  was  not  above  a  draw- 
ing-room pitch.  Is  it  humility  or  good  breeding?  A  little  of  both, 
probably.  The  wood-cutter  answers  alike  softly,  but  distinctly; 
we  drag  our  horses  down  again,  recross  the  brook,  which  we  should 
have  ever  kept  on  our  left,  and  pull  up  a  steeper  pitch,  pass  our 
wood-cutting  befriender,  through  another  long  and  shaded  and  lus- 
cious ravine — how  summery  cool  it  was  ! — and  out  upon  a  rancho, 
the  midway  spot  of  the  journey. 

The  men  and  women  and  babies  stared  respectfully,  and  said 
"Adios"  prettily.  The  men  take  off  their  hats  usually  as  they  meet 
us,  especially  the  elderly  ones.  The  young  ones,  if  not  very  young, 
are  more  independent. 

The  rancho  leads  us  up  on  the  tepitati  (I  spell  by  the  ear),  a 
volcanic  rock  that  is  hardly  a  rock.  It  seems  soft,  and  sounds  hol- 
low. It  whitens  under  the  hoofs  of  horses,  and  glistens  like  mar- 
ble dust  in  the  hot  glare.  It  abounds  all  over  this  land  ;  you  strike 
it  on  almost  every  road,  a  soil  seemingly  without  possibility  of  cul- 
ture, yet  a  substance  used  in  lighter  buildings.  It  is  a  long  climb 
up  its  white  face,  along  a  white  ridge,  and  up  another  like  white 


LUNCH  UNDER  A    CACTUS -TREE.  329 

ladder,  to  the  crest  of  our  road.  The  path  is  worn  in  its  chalk-like 
surface,  now  in  narrow  grooves,  scarce  wide  enough  for  the  two 
legs  of  the  steed  to  stand  in,  now  over  long  slippery  slides,  now 
into  stairs  of  unequal  length,  but  of  uniform  smoothness,  while  the 
echo  of  the  tread  seems  ever  to  make  us  shrink  and  heed  that  or- 
der of  Emerson's, 

"  Set  not  thy  foot  on  graves." 
"The  ground  sounds  hollow  from  below," 

is  Watts's  nervous  putting  of  our  mortal  estate.  It  is  not  inapplica- 
ble here,  on  perhaps  the  highest  point  my  feet  have  trod  in  all  this 
exalted  land.  As  these  loftiest  places  of  earth  sound  hollow,  so 
do  the  loftiest  stations  of  man.  The  ground  beneath  the  feet  of 
kings  and  potentates  is  not  the  echoless  granite,  but  the  reverber- 
ating tepitati.     It  is  rotten,  barren,  glittering,  resounding  dust. 

"  Princes,  this  clay  shall  be  your  bed." 

Nay,  more  ;  you  are  of  the  same  clay.  Let  us  take  the  lesson 
to  heart  which  the  topmost  soil  that  we  touch  on  the  continent  so 
sadly  preaches. 

Here  we  take  a  lunch  oi pcui  y  mantiquia,  bettter  known  to  you 
as  bread-and-butter,  a  piece  of  roast  beef,  and  some  German-made 
tarts  that  had,  therefore,  a  tart  in  them,  which  Mexican  dulces  never 
have.  Always  choose  well  your  table,  if  you  can  not  your  food. 
Where  is  a  better  place  than  this  highest  point  in  our  pilgrimage  ? 
So  we  spread  our  lunch  under  a  not-spreading  cactus-tree.  It 
makes  me  think  of  Elijah's  juniper-tree,  for  it  gives  but  little  shade 
from  a  torrid  sun,  in  a  mountainous  land.  But  it  is  something  to 
eat  a  slice  of  meat  and  bread  under  a  not-spreading  cactus-tree. 
It  will  do  to  tell  of,  and  it  is  told  of.  Then  judgment  gets  the 
better  of  sentiment,  and  I  adjourn  my  spreading  limbs  and  spread 
.read  to  the  large-leafed  robli  ;  so  my  guide  told  me  to  spell  it. 
It  is  a  sort  of  oak,  with  large  leaves,  some  green,  some  brown.  It 
gives  shade,  and  the  breeze  gives  coolness. 

The  view  from  this  apex  is  grand.  The  hills,  of  all  sorts  of 
strange  shapes,  rise  all  about  us,  for  miles  and  miles.     Just  below 


330  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

is  .1  hollow  that  has  a  bit  of  a  white  chapel,  a  few  brown  huts,  a 
green  sweet  sward,  and  a  glimmering  of  water;  how  I  wish  for  a 
drop  of  it  to  cool  my  parched  tongue,  and  wish  in  vain  !  Shall  I 
ever  have  a  like  powerless  craving  from  the  opposite  of  this  sum- 
mit? Christ  forbid!  yet  if  another  feared  lest,  having  preached  to 
others,  he  himself  should  be  a  castaway,  how  much  more  I !  The 
basin  looked,  among  these  hard,  stern,  rough  mountains,  like  the 
"  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp"  among  its  hard,  stern,  rough  protectors  ; 
only  these  mountains  never  swore,  nor  drank,  nor  gambled,  nor 
murdered,  nor  were  in  any  respect  unfit  protectors  to  the  babe 
they  embosomed.  Would  that  their  human  imitators  were  as  hu- 
man ! 

They  assume  strange  shapes.  One  of  them  lifts  itself  out  an 
encompassing  plain,  like  a  bowl  bottom  side  up  and  the  bottom 
broken  off,  so  that  you  can  look  into  its  hollow  from  its  ragged 
edge,  clown  side  up.  Others  bend  themselves  in  huge  concentric 
arcs  that  look  like  the  same  bowl,  with  one-half  of  its  already  be- 
headed, or  bebottomed,  portion  cut  away  from  it,  exposing  to  view 
the  inside  of  the  remaining  part — a  hollow  hemisphered,  truncated 
cone.  Others  look  after  the  fashion  of  hills  elsewhere,  only  hand- 
somer, very  smooth  domes  and  cones  of  glistening  rock.  Among 
them  glided,  like  huge  mottled  snakes,  pastures  brown  and  gray 
with  stones  and  winter  herbage,  waiting  the  rains  that  shall  clothe 
these  rocky  fields  in  "  a  mist  of  greenness,"  the  mottled  snake 
turning  to  its  greener  kindred.  So  precious  are  the  bits  of  soil  in 
this  almost  soilless  region  that  you  can  trace  the  boundary  lines  of 
these  patches  far  up  the  sides  of  the  mountains. 

Far  away  to  the  north  and  east,  the  grand  plains  above  Quere- 
taro  roll  out,  a  scroll  written  over  with  industry  and  its  rewards.  It 
will  be  yet  better  written,  when  this  age  shall  be  a  palimpsest  for 
the  one,  near  at  hand,  of  equal  rights,  higher  faith,  universal  culture, 
and  social  reform.  How  intense  the  solitude  of  these  mountains ; 
how  profound  their  silence !  It  is  a  stillness  that  can  be  felt.  Not 
a  bird  wings  its  way  across  the  summits,  or  sends  an  echo  along 
their  sides  ;  not  an  insect  hums.     No  leaves 


A    DESCENDING  ROAD. 

"  Clap  their  little  hands  in  glee 
With  one  continuous  sound." 


33* 


Yet  there  is  strength  in  all  this  calm.  "  He  setteth  fast  the  mount- 
ains," is  the  emblem  of  Divine  omnipotence,  "being  girded  with 
power."  But  these  mountains  are  not  always  set  fast.  The  "ever- 
lasting hills  do  bow."  Here,  not  unfrequently,  they  tremble  and 
bow.  Is  it  "  at  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  of  the  Lord  of  the  whole 
earth?"  Why  not?  Is  not  this  as  proper  a  solution  of  that  phys- 
ical problem  as  those  less  spiritual  ?  "  For  He  cometh,  He  com- 
eth  to  judge  the  earth."  Does  any  earth  need  His  coming  to  judg- 
ment more?  "He  shall  judge  the  people  righteously."  Even  so. 
"  Bend  the  heavens  and  come  down." 

"  Earth,  tremble  on,  with  all  thy  sons  ;" 

and  may  His  feet  be  on  the  mountains,  publishing  peace,  and  giv- 
ing them,  and  all  that  they  inhabit,  everlasting  righteousness  and 
rest. 

Our  road  soon  descends  again,  more  rapidly  than  it  went  up, 
though  not  more  easily.  It  hangs  half  a  thousand  feet  over  a  ba- 
sin edged  with  a  flowing  river,  skirts  the  rancho  of  Sancho  (an  al- 
literation not  our  own),  with  its  tiny  field  of  wheat  and  plat  of  gay 
flowers,  and  little  peach-orchard,  with  flowers  and  half-grown  fruit 
on  adjoining  trees.  It  is  lovely  in  all  save  its  dogs  and  their  own- 
ers. How  can  nature  be  so  grand  and  lovely,  and  man  and  wom- 
an so  mean  and  unlovely  ? 

"Like  vermin  crawling  on  a  lion's  crest," 

said  Tom  Moore,  bitterly  and  not  untruly,  of  Americans  more  than 
a  half  century  ago.  It  is  not  untrue  of  some  of  these  Americans 
to-day.  But  Christianity  is  coming.  It  has  never  really  got  here 
yet,  and  we  shall  see  these  "vermin"  pretty,  cleanly,  cultured  men 
and  women.  The  girl  that  gave  us  a  cup  of  cold  water,  or  as  cold 
as  her  cabin  afforded,  and  illuminated  my  mozo  with  her  smile,  as 
well  as  with  her  answers  to  his  inquiries,  shall  not  she  and  her  kin, 
who  bow  and  take  off  their  sombreros  and  salute  us  so  courteously 


332  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

over  the  wheat  plat,  yet  arise  from  their  hovels  into  comely  homes, 
and  be  .ill  beautiful  in  condition  as  in  possibility? 

It  is  a  long  following  of  a  dry  river-bed,  crossing  and  recrossing 
its  loose  rocks  many  times  under  a  sultry  sun,  before  we  strike  a 
rattling  brook  of  delightful  water,  and  a  hill-side  that  looked  as  if 
covered  with  an  apple-orchard,  and  must  certainly  reveal  a  white 
house  amidst  its  green  foliage.  It  is  a  nopal,  or  cactus,  orchard, 
and  no  white  cottage  glimmers  among  its  leather  lapstone-shaped 
leaves,  but  only  the  same  adobe  hut,  the  same  half-naked  women, 
three-fourths  naked  men,  seven-eighths  naked  youths,  and  entirely 
naked  children,  all  sitting  on  the  bare  ground  in  poverty  and  deg- 
radation extreme,  yet  as  courteous  and  kindly  as  the  princeliest 
soul  in  the  princeliest  palace. 

We  pass  through  this  nopal-orchard,  with  its  many-tinted  blos- 
soms and  small  egg-like  fruit,  and  emerge  on  a  wide  plain.  Our 
steps  have  turned  a  little  too  far  to  the  south.  A  kindly-voiced 
native,  neatly  dressed  in  white,  with  a  blue  girdle  about  his  loins, 
gives  us  directions,  and  our  untired  horses  step  away,  sobre passo,  or 
the  "  overstep,"  the  favorite  pace  of  long  day  traveling.  Another 
rancho  is  traversed  of  like  disgust  and  like  courtesy;  a  high,  hot, 
shadeless  hill  is  mounted  ;  a  hotter  canon  crossed  ;  another  long 
plain  traversed  ;  another  rancho,  with  its  organ-cactus  walls,  is  en- 
tered and  left ;  a  long  stretch  of  open  upland  paced  over.  The 
"cinquo  leguas  "  (five  leagues),  gradually  diminishes  to  "quatuor, 
tres,  dos  y  medio"  (two  and  a  half)  or  "  dos,  mas  y  menos  "  (two, 
more  or  less),  where  it  hangs  a  long  while.  At  last  an  adobe  cot- 
tage close  to  a  waterless  river-bed  is  reached,  whose  pretty  maid- 
enly girl  says  it  is  "una  legua"  (one  league).  For  that  informa- 
tion, as  well  as  for  her  pretty  ways  and  name  (Arabella  it  was),  and 
for  the  abundant  and  cooling  water  she  gave  us,  we  responded  with 
mi  lie  gracias  (a  thousand  thanks),  the  debris  of  our  dinner,  and  a 
medio.  Which  of  the  three  prized  she  the  most,  think  you?  A 
miss  of  fourteen  would  not  hold  the  medio  in  chief  esteem.  That 
her  mother  prefers,  and  she  the  cakes  and  compliments.  Suum 
cuique.     Each  gets  her  own,  and  all  of  us  are  satisfied. 


THE    VALLEY  OF  LA    CAMADA.  ??- 

O  \J  o 

The  dry  brook,  with  its  superabounding  rocks,  is  our  highway  foi 
over  a  mile.  A  huge  rock  rising  from  its  brink,  is  the  last  resting- 
place  for  horse  and  rider.  It  is  of  clay  or  soil  of  the  country,  and 
has  embedded  several  strata  of  loose  stones,  as  if  formed  by  the 
deposits  of  freshets,  and  then  left  for  the  sun  to  bake  into  a  solid 
pudding.  The  epizootic  shows  its  green  presence  around  the  nos 
trils  of  the  mozo's  horse — a  going  and  not  a  coming  presence — 
which  has  notwithstanding  walked  and  paced  its  nigh  to  fifty  miles, 
patiently  and  pleasantly,  and  will  rewalk  it  homeward  on  the  mor- 
row. 

The  high-road  is  soon  struck,  and  the  Valley  of  La  Camada  lies 
before  us,  like  every  valley  of  Mexico,  a  thing  of  beauty  rare.  The 
brown  earth,  soft  and  sown,  awaits  the  coming  rain  that  shall  fill 
it  with  life.  The  silver-gray  hills  lie  near  us,  seemingly,  though  a 
score  of  miles  away,  bare  of  all  save  sunlight.  The  river  Sanchti 
winds,  broad  and  shaded,  along  the  foreground  ;  broad  in  its  plans 
and  ultimate  fulfillment,  though  now  it  is  dwindled  to  a  shorter 
span  along  the  farther  bank  and  under  the  willows  thereof,  while 
grass  is  springing  up  in  its  bed  on  this  side,  and  the  cattle  are  eat- 
ing it.  Trees  and  grasses  make  this  central  line  a  line  of  beauty 
which,  were  we  less  tired,  would  be  lingered  over  longer.  But  this 
fifty  miles  by  an  unused  rider  has  made  back  and  brains  give  out, 
and  the  plaza  of  the  hacienda  is  more  fascinating  than  all  fields,  or 
brooks,  or  trees,  or  grasses,  or  cows,  or  any  other  creature.  The  In- 
dian festa,  with  its  chirruping  guitars  and  twinkling  feet,  is  alike 
unheeded.  The  court  is  entered,  and  the  couch  is  sought,  and  on 
its  restful  bosom  all  the  mountain  climbings  and  anti-climbings, 
and  all  the  scenes  and  musings  thereto  belonging,  are  as  though 
they  had  never  been. 


,34  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


VI. 

TO  AND  IN  SAN  LUIS  TO  TO  SI. 

\/toc  Music. — Low-hung  but  high-hung  Clouds. — Troops  and  Travelers. — A 
big,  small  Wagon. — Zeal  of  San  Felipe.  —  Lutero  below  Voltaire.  —  Rough 
Places  not  Smooth. — Mesquite  Woods. — Silver  Hills. — Two  Haciendas. — 
How  they  Irrigate. — Lassoing. — The  Frescoes  of  Frisco. — Cleft  Cliffs. — The 
Valley  of  San  Luis  Potosi. — Greetings  and  Letters. — The  Church  of  Mary. — 
The  coming  Faith. — A  costly  and  Christly  Flag. — Joseph  and  Mary  wor- 
shiped in  vain  for  Rain. 

How  different  the  strains  that  fell  upon  the  ear  last  night  and 
those  that  are  now  addressing  us  ;  and  both  are  musical  !  Then 
it  was  the  dancing-girls'  guitars  and  harps,  making  a  twitter  as  of 
caroling  swallows.  Now  it  is  a  Government  band  that,  on  a  broad 
and  lighted  plaza,  discourses  music  that  even  Berliners  would  walk 
around  to  hear,  especially  if  they  could  soon  thereby  reach  a  beer- 
stall.  These  Government  bands  are  found  in  all  the  large  towns, 
and  are  a  great  source  of  pleasure  to  the  citizens.  They  play  twice 
or  thrice  a  week,  and  draw  many  loungers  and  listeners  to  their 
soirees.  They  are  exceedingly  refined  in  their  touch.  You  never 
heard  a  clearer,  softer  note  than  that  flute  is  now  trilling;  and  the 
airs  are  gentle  and  recondite.  How  one  forgets  the  long  hard 
ride  of  more  than  eighty  miles,  the  slow  pulling  along  over  heavy 
and  rocky  roads,  as  he  listens  to  these  rich  strains ! 

"  Here  will  we  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears  ;  soft  stillness  and  the  night 
Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony." 

The  country  and  the  people  are  made  for  music.  Remember 
that  all  these  players  are  Indians,  "  brown  as  the  ribbed  sea-sand," 
and  a  good  deal  browner  than  any  I  ever  saw — brown  as  the  old 
red  sandstone.  Are  they  made  from  that  antique  dust  ?  All  these 
are  admirable  performers.     I  have  never  seen  a  white  face  among 


OFF  FOR  SAN  LUIS  POTOSL  335 

them.  In  Mexico  and  all  the  cities  of  the  land  they  are  of  one 
hue.  The  passion  of  the  people  is  for  music.  The  upspringing 
Protestant  churches  are  bursting  forth  in  song.  As  this  hard,  dry 
soil  breaks  forth  in  flowers  the  instant  it  scents  the  water,  so  the 
water  of  life  touches  their  parched  and  barren  souls,  and  they  flow- 
er into  song.  I  heard  a  poor  untrained  clothes-cobbling  sister  and 
her  daughter  sing  the  "  Gloria  in  Excelsis  "  as  I  never  heard  Trin- 
ity or  the  Tremont  Street  choir  approach  ;  so  simple,  so  full  of  soul, 
so  grand,  so  upswelling.  They  bring  forth  new  songs  clay  by  clay. 
Once  visiting  their  house  (the  husband  is  a  preacher),  they  sang 
me  Juan  Bron.  I  was  surprised  to  find  my  old  friend  John  Brown 
in  this  new  shape.  How  it  rung,  especially  the  chorus,  closing 
with  "Al  Cristo  alevad !"  (praise  to  Christ).  They  had  set  it  to 
the  praise  of  the  Creator,  Christ ;  for  it  is  as  easy  for  them  to  make 
poetry  as  it  is  to  make  tunes.  Their  gifts  of  improvisation  are 
Italian.  Our  frequently  no  browner  brother  of  the  South  is  their 
only  equal  in  this  respect,  but  he  has  not  that  operatic  quality, 
that  delicate  tone,  which  belongs  to  this  people. 

Then  the  climate  helps  the  gift.  It  is  just  the  air  for  song.  It 
is  never  too  hot  nor  too  cold  in  the  evening,  the  time  for  music. 
Every  night  they  can  revel  in  this  relief.  Their  burdened  bodies 
and  souls  can  rise  on  these  wings  of  song  to  a  realm  of  rest  and 
joy.  But  this  band  must  not  beguile  us  from  our  purpose.  The 
rather  let  them  accompany  us  on  our  story  of  the  journey,  making 
its  rough  places  smooth  with  their  melody. 

It  is  a  good  trait  of  this  staging  that  it  begins  in  the  fresh  of  the 
morning.  You  get  a  good  start  of  the  sun,  and  the  hot  centre  of 
the  clay  is  given  to  breakfast  and  to  rest.  So  I  am  up  at  a  little- 
after  three,  take  two  cups  of  delicious  coffee  and  milk,  and  a  sin- 
gle roll,  and  go  in  the  strength  of  that  beverage  and  bread  till  mid- 
day. One  cup  is  the  usual  allowance,  but,  being  tired,  I  treat  my- 
self to  a  second  cup  of  hot  milk  with  a  suspicion  of  coffee  therein. 
It  is  also  odd  that  one  feels  little  desire  for  more  food  or  ere  the 
ordinary  hour  for  dinner  arrives— so  easily  we  can  get  accustomed 
to  our  condition. 


33<> 


OCA'   NEXT-DOOR   NEIGHBOR. 


Rain  had  fallen  in  the  night,  and  clouds,  as  the  morning  broke, 
appeal nl,  hugging  the  bases  of  the  hills.  They  almost  swept  down 
on  us  with  their  wet  wings.  Had  they  been  in  action  they  would 
have  done  so.  Low  to  us,  they  were  high  in  the  heavens,  being 
two  miles  above  Vera  Cruz  or  London,  a  high  point  for  raining 
clouds  to  hang. 

They  do  not  hide  the  landscape,  which  lies  wide,  and  level,  and 
rich,  and  cultivated,  a  grand  plain,  like  so  many  of  Mexico.  Sol- 
diers pass  us,  dressed  in  the  white  costume  of  the  country  ;  artil- 
lery-men follow,  five  cannon,  drawn  each  by  ten  mules,  and  their 
attendant  caissons ;  cavalry  and  commandery — quite  a  detachment 
of  an  army.  Their  faces  and  shoulders  are  wrapped  in  their  bright 
zerapes,  not  so  soldier-like  as  comfortable.  Following  them  are  a 
score  and  more  of  heavily  laden  wagons,  each  drawn  by  a  like 
number  of  mules,  and  each  having  a  goodly  company  of  men,  wom- 
en, and  babies  on  the  top 
of  the  baggage,  one  woman 
sitting  on  the  beam  (I  know 
not  its  farmer  name)  that 
passes  from  the  wagon  to 
the  oxen's  yoke,  as  I  have 
seen  many  a  farmer  at 
home  ride,  but  never  be- 
fore, his  spouse. 

Following  these  are  the 
other  mule  wagons  of  or- 
dinary luggage,  a  baggage- 
wagon  like  that  of  the 
States,  except  that  this  is 
half  as  long  and  well-nigh 
twice  as  high.  Perched  up 
on  tall  wheels,  and  its  ma- 
guey-cloth roof,  covering  wide  flaunting  bows,  it  seems  a  mon- 
strous affair,  till  you  get  close  to  it,  when  you  find  all  this  enor- 
mous height  and  swell  is  only  two  wheels  long — half  the  length  you 


MEXICAN    MULETEER. 


FOUR  APOSTATES.  ->,-] 

anticipated,  and  that  its  pretensions  required.  It  is  a  little  giant, 
and  is  not  unlike  many  another  swell  who  begins  his  career  much 
bigger  than  he  ends. 

This  multitude  of  teams  shows  the  readiness  of  this  country  for 
the  railroad,  as  the  level  land  shows  its  fitness.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  a  road,  well  and  wisely  made,  will  be  a  paying  investment 
from  the  start. 

The  city  of  San  Felipe  is  our  first  stopping-place.  It  is  a  largish 
town  of  five  thousand  inhabitants,  dirty  and  adobe  in  most  of  its 
streets  and  houses,  gayly  got  up,  with  colored  washes  and  fancy 
figurings  in  its  plaza  and  neighborhood.  The  time  for  changing 
horses  allows  me  to  visit  the  church.  It  is  about  eight  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  fifty  to  seventy-five  persons  are  at  worship,  while  a  priest 
is  delivering  the  consecrated  wafer  to  an  altar  full  of  coming  and 
going  recipients.  At  the  corner  near  the  entrance  is  a  painting  on 
the  walls  of  the  church,  with  the  face  of  a  woman,  but  habited  as  a 
pope,  with  the  triple  crown  on  her  head,  and  two  angel  boys  offer- 
ing her  an  open  book,  on  which  is  written  in  Latin,  "The  Word 
was  made  flesh."  Her  right  hand  is  waving  authority  to  lightnings 
that  are  diving  at  the  heads  of  four  apostates,  who  are  disappear- 
ing under  their  forked  fires,  while  over  them  is  written,  "Qui  cede- 
nam  ?wn  audierint,  sit  tibi  Sicut  Ethnicus  el  Publicanus" — Matt,  xviii., 
17  (Whoever  will  not  hear  the  church,  let  him  be  unto  thee  as 
a  heathen  man  and  a  publican).  Now  who  do  you  suppose  that 
verse  and  these  lightnings  were  hurled  at  by  that  female  pope  of  a 
church  ?  Arreo,  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and  Lutero.  The  last  was  the 
lowest,  as  if  the  quickest  to  sink  into  hell.  That  painting  was  fresh, 
and  put  up  by  some  priest  who  scented  what  was  in  the  air,  and  is 
getting  the  people  ready  to  resist  its  coming.  But  Luther  will  be 
erased  yet  from  those  walls,  and  the  triple  crown  from  the  head  of 
the  church  ;  and  those  poor  sisters,  that  are  only  allowed  half  the 
sacrament,  shall  enjoy  the  whole  supper  of  the  Lord  in  company 
with  the  disciples  of  this  Lutero. 

The  road  soon  enters  a  divide,  which  is  rough,  though  not  high 
nor  long.     An  attempt  is  made  to  have  a  smooth  and  handsome 


33S  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

road,  and  this  succeeds  for  a  few  rods,  and  shows  what  might  be 
everywhere,  were  a  little  constant  care  kept  up.  It  soon  gets  tired 
of  being  good,  like  a  spoiled  and  wayward  child,  and  cuts  up  badly, 
as  such  a  child  is  apt  to  do  after  its  fit  of  momentary  excellence. 
It  goes  round  the  spurs  of  hills  staggering  fearfully,  and  makes  us, 
who  are  two  only,  stagger  as  bad  as  the  road  and  worse.  There 
are  two  ways  to  arrange  for  traveling  safely  over  rough  regions: 
one  is  to  make  the  road  good,  the  other  to  make  the  coach  strong. 
They  prefer  the  latter  course  here,  or  rather  the  diligence  company 
do  that  for  the  preservation  of  their  custom  and  coaches.  So  you 
have  no  fears,  how  much  soever  you  are  knocked  about,  that  the 
coach  will  be  knocked  to  pieces.  It  is  made  to  stand,  and  it  will 
stand.  Never  a  lesion  have  I  seen  in  these  hundreds  of  leagues 
of  travel,  and  over  intolerable  ways.  They  tumble  into  holes, 
whirl  and  toss  and  heave  among  loose  boulders,  or  rocks  in  situ, 
down  hill  and  up,  trembling  sometimes  like  a  ship  struck  by  mighty 
waves,  but  never  springing  a  leak,  or  shivering  a  timber,  or  loosen- 
ing a  brace.  They  reel  out  of  the  rocky  gulfs,  and  are  off  on  a  gal- 
lop in  an  instant,  if  road  permits. 

These  low  but  tortuous  and  tossing  hill-sides  open  shortly  on  an- 
other valley  more  attractive  to  the  eye  than  the  one  just  left,  in  that 
this  is  full  of  foliage.  As  far  as  the  eye  can  see,  it  is  one  mass  of 
feathery  green.  But  all  is  not  gold  that  glitters,  or  silver,  even  in 
Mexico,  and  this  fascinating  woodland  turns  out  to  be  cheap  mes- 
quite  and  cheaper  nopal,  or  cactus,  that  are  growing  wild.  It  is 
an  uncleared  forest.  Still,  an  uncleared  forest  is  a  novelty  here 
as  well  as  in  most  of  the  United  States,  and  will  soon  be  in  all 
parts  of  both  countries;  so  I  like  it  perhaps  none  the  less. 

The  mesquite  is  not  unlike  the  Peru,  and  both  resemble  in  some 
sort  our  willow,  except  that  these  grow  everywhere,  the  dryest  places 
suiting  the  Peru  just  as  well  as  the  moistest.  It  spreads  like  the 
apple  and  peach,  though  lighter  of  trunk  than  the  former,  and  not  so 
loose  in  the  lay  of  its  limbs  as  the  latter.  It  bears  a  pod,  which  is 
sought  as  an  esculent.  These  woods  are  encompassed  with  high 
bare  hills,  those  on  the  left  hand  being  not  over  a  league  from  the 


TWO   VAST  ESTATES.  ^9 

roadway.  They  are  of  the  type  that  lay  behind  La  Camada,  a  gray 
and  silver  frame  to  that  fair  picture.  The  hills  may  not  all  be  full 
of  silver,  but  they  all  suggest  it.  They  are  all  of  the  same  blood 
as  the  silver  mountains  proper,  and  put  on  airs  as  become  the  kin 
of  so  rich  a  house.  They  are  basaltic  almost  in  their  castellated 
forms,  and  look  rather  like  a  column  of  giant  "graybacks"  open- 
ing their  serried  ranks  to  let  this  column  of  green,  and  perhaps  this 
coach  and  company  also,  march  through. 

Our  change  of  mules  is  made  in  the  heart  of  this  forest.  The 
turtle-dove  (palumbra  triste,  they  call  it  here)  fills  the  air  with  his 
melancholy  wail,  a  single  note  of  the  whip-poor-will's  strain.  Wom- 
en are  frying  and  men  eating  tortillas  under  a  cactus  by  the  way- 
side ;  the  vista  opens  deep  into  the  green  forest,  and  every  thing 
is  quiet,  soft,  salubrious.  One  could  almost  make  himself  into  a 
Robin  Hood,  and  live  his  life  in  this  secluded  richness.  How  won- 
derfully human  nature  adapts  itself  to  its  condition  !  We  go  from 
mountain  to  sea,  from  cell  to  city,  with  a  zest  for  each  that  seems 
insatiate.  But  only  one  offers  its  attractions  at  a  time.  We  can 
not  at  once  sail  the  sea  and  climb  the  mountain,  unless  it  be  a 
mountain  wave.  We  are  like  the  lad  who  wished  every  season 
might  last  forever,  and  was  met  with  a  record  of  his  contradictory 
wishes  at  the  end  of  the  year. 

They  are  not  contradictory ;  for  we  are  so  fortunately  as  well  as 
wonderfully  made,  that  we  like  truly  and  with  all  our  heart  the  con- 
ditions in  which  we  are  placed.  Thus  the  Creator  fits  the  cloth- 
ing of  the  world  to  the  shape  of  the  soul.  Whatever  be  that  ward- 
robe, it  seems  a  part  of  the  spiritual  being  whom  it  incloses,  and  ev- 
ery place  affords  a  sympathy  with  every  fibre  of  that  being. 

"Where  it  goeth  all  things  are, 
And  it  goeth  everywhere." 

The  two  haciendas  are  called  San  Dartoleo  and  Goral.  They 
are  practically  one.  From  six  to  eight  thousand  persons  live  on 
these  vast  estates;  from  four  to  five  hundred  men  are  employed  in 
their  cultivation.     They  and  their  families  absorb  the  chief  of  the 


340  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

population.  The  rest,  as  in  all  the  pueblos,  or  towns,  find  their  lit- 
tle livelihood  as  they  can,  carrying  burdens,  driving  mules,  here  a 
very  little,  and  there  still  less. 

The  grand  house  at  the  hacienda  of  Goral  is  elaborate  enough 
for  a  castle  or  a  convent,  the  two  biggest  things  in  this  country. 
Its  high  front  wall  is  set  off  with  square  pink  blocks  of  water-color, 
and  it  looks  big  enough  for  the  entertainment  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
and  her  retinue.  The  contrast  between  this  palace  and  the  clay- 
colored  adobe  huts  about  it  is  painful,  though  it  is  universal  out- 
side of  the  United  States,  but  nowhere  else  more  violent  and  ex- 
treme than  here. 

The  fields  lie  wide  and  magnificent  before  it;  but  the  fields  are 
not  for  the  tillers.  For  a  real  a  day  or  thereabouts  they  work  and 
starve  ;  for  nothing  a  day  this  gentleman  idles  and  abounds.  1 
think  some  of  the  most  scared  anti-agrarians  would  be  almost  as 
fanatical  and  wise  as  Wendell  Philips,  the  wisest  man  as  well  as 
the  most  eloquent  of  his  generation,  could  they  but  look  on  these 
Mexican  pictures.  How  much  better  are  the  huge  manufactur- 
ing corporations,  and  railroad  monopolies,  and  land-grabbers  of  the 
United  States?  Take  heed  in  time,  and  let  Christianity  have  its 
perfect  work,  or  antichristianity  will  have  its. 

Curious  grain  vaults  are  on  its  plaza,  pyramids  or  cones  built  of 
mortar,  thirty  feet  high,  for  the  storing  of  the  harvests.  The  reason 
for  this  shape  I  did  not  learn.  They  give  a  quaint  air  to  the  plaza. 
A  school  and  two  churches  and  a  half-dozen  begging  old  women 
help  break  up  the  monotony  of  scenery  and  silence  of  this  grand 
farm-house.  The  lordly  owner  ought  at  least  to  take  care  of  his 
own  paupers,  and  not  allow  them  to  prey  on  the  traveler. 

The  wild  wood,  after  leaving  this  posta,  soon  gets  inclosed  in  a 
wall  on  the  right  hand,  too  high  for  us  in  the  coach  to  see  whether 
it  be  still  a  forest,  or  has  become  a  fruitful  field.  It  is  a  part  of 
two  haciendas  in  name,  and  one  in  fact,  that  stretch  all  this  posta 
and  beyond,  from  four  to  five  leagues,  from  ten  to  twelve  miles. 
The  wall  is  admirably  built  of  stone  well  capped,  or  of  adobe  brick, 
its  only  fault  being  that  it  is  too  high  for  our  heads.     Glimpses  oc- 


A    FRACTIOUS  "BEASTIE."  34I 

casionally  show  much  culture,  and  a  ride  on  the  stage-top  afterward 
exhibits  a  wide  range  of  rich  fields.  All  of  it  could  be  subdued 
easily.  It  only  wants  water.  And  that  is  obtained  by  the  simple 
digging  of  wells.  You  can  see  them  all  over  this  land.  They  are 
usually  of  the  old-fashioned  Yankee  sort,  a  pole  balanced  on  a 
cross-bar,  with  a  stone  at  one  end  and  a  bucket  at  the  other.  The 
drawers  of  water  stand  two  and  two,  either  side  by  side  or  front  to 
front,  so  that  thev  can  stimulate  each  other  in  their  work.  Some- 
times  they  arise  to  the  aristocracy  of  a  horse  turning  over  a  wheel 
around  which  buckets  are  fastened  that  catch  the  water  below,  and 
dip  it  up,  and  turn  it  into  troughs  and  tanks.  This  for  surface 
wells.  Deep  ones  have  still  a  different  way  of  being  operated.  A 
large  cowskin  bucket  hangs  by  a  pulley  over  the  well.  The  rope 
passes  over  this  pulley  and  is  passed  round  a  big  wheel,  or  barrel, 
six  feet  in  diameter,  a  hundred  feet  away.  The  horse  pulls  the 
rope  around  this  wheel  and  so  hoists  the  water  to  the  trough. 

Still  other  modes  are  used,  but  the  chief  is  the  old  beam  and  the 
double  man-power.  We  can  save  all  drought  in  the  States  by  these 
and  more  simple  and  cheap  appliances.  The  long  dry  seasons  to 
which  we  are  not  unfrequently  doomed  can  be  remedied  by  these 
preparations.  It  is  far  better  for  the  farmer  to  be  thus  busy  than 
to  sit  and  see  his  crops  perish  of  thirst.  They  will  not  cost  much 
to  get  ready,  if  they  are  not  used,  and  will  repay  all  their  expense 
in  a  single  year  of  drought. 

The  hacienda  continues  for  two  or  three  miles,  blasted  outside 
its  walls,  luxuriant  within.  It  closes  with  a  handsomely  construct- 
ed corral,  into  which  a  company  of  horsemen  are  driving  a  herd 
of  cattle.  One  of  the  younger  fry,  not  having  learned  the  futility 
of  all  attempts  to  escape,  breaks  away  from  the  herd  and  scampers 
adown  the  field.  Instantly  three  of  the  horsemen  race  after  it. 
It  is  an  unequal  contest  from  the  start.  The  little  black  "  beastie  " 
shows  pluck.  But  they  are  too  much  for  him,  those  three  men 
and  three  horses.  Forty  feet  off  out  flew  the  lasso,  and  caught 
him  just  where  it  aimed,  around  the  horns.  They  can  grip  any- 
where, it  is  said — hoof,  ear,  horn.     An  enthusiastic  laudator  of  their 


J42  OCR   XRXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

skill,  who  said  they  could  fasten  their  lasso  where  they  wished,  was 
asked  if  they  could  catch  hold  the  tip  of  the  tail.  He  has  not 
answered  yet.  The  heifer  casts  itself  on  the  ground  ;  but  it  is  no 
use.  Its  fight  is  fought,  and  it  has  lost.  It  surrenders,  and  trots 
submissively  into  the  corral. 

The  country  still  holds  its  wildness,  whiteness,  and  greenness. 
For  a  dozen  miles  the  road  winds  in  and  out  among  the  mesquite- 
trees,  a  good  pathway  and  exceedingly  romantic.  It  enters  then 
the  pretty  town  of  San  Francisco. 

No  village  so  ornate  in  water-color  frescoes  have  I  seen  in  Mex- 
ico as  this  bit  of  a  city.  Irapuato  is  its  only  rival,  and  that  is  not 
so  daintily  touched  up.  The  hand  of  a  master  is  here.  Look  at 
that  drinking-saloon  on  the  south-west  corner  of  the  plaza.  Nev- 
er was  an  inner  fresco  of  a  Parisian  parlor  more  beautiful.  The 
straw-tinted  wall  is  bordered  at  top  and  bottom  with  mode  colors, 
representing  cornices  and  pediments  of  variegated  marble,  rich  and 
strong  and  delicate.  La  Plaza  it  is  called :  it  deserves  a  better 
business.  All  round  the  square  this  passion  rages.  It  has  caught 
the  church,  which  rejoices  in  its  blue  and  white  dress.  All  are 
more  pronounced  than  the  La  Plaza,  which  has  touched  perfec- 
tion's height  in  this  cheap  and  pretty  adornment.  A  statue  in  the 
square  is  an  additional  proof  of  the  taste  of  the  inhabitants. 

Jesus  Maria  is  the  next  dirty  village,  a  good  name  for  a  Naza- 
reth of  a  town. 

Arroyas,  the  changing-place  for  the  mules,  has  two  or  three  huts, 
one  of  which  without  chimney  was  full  of  smoke  of  a  tortilla-frying 
fire.  At  the  other  were  a  half-dozen  ancient  oranges,  of  which  the 
lady  sent  me  one  by  her  little  six-year-old  boy,  and  which  I  as  gen- 
erously gave  to  the  mozo,  sending  her  back  my  card  for  lack  of  a 
more  valuable  commodity  less  than  two  reals,  which  I  thought  too 
much  for  such  a  compliment.  You  will  find  it,  doubtless,  on  her 
card-rack  when  you  pass  through  that  station. 

Now  comes  another  hard  pull  over  the  uncovered  rocks.  Where 
the  soil  is  on,  the  road  is  good ;  but  where  it  is  off,  no  attempts  are 
made  to  replace  it,  and  we  stagger  along  on  the  bed  rock  which 


THE    VALLEY  OF  SAN  LUIS.  343 

the  one  or  two  feet  of  loam  has  left  in  some  summer  shower  for 
parts  unknown.  The  hills  lose  none  of  their  grandeur.  In  fact, 
they  increase  therein.  Nowhere  in  the  country  have  I  seen  a  more 
magnificent  colonnade  than  accompanied  us,  on  our  left,  this  last 
ten  miles.  It  was  close  at  hand,  and  we  could  see  far  into  the 
depths  of  these  cavernous  cliffs.  Here  are  truncated  cones,  with 
their  craters  lying  open  half-  way  down  their  sides,  a  hollow  to 
which  sun  and  cloud-shadow  give  yet  greater  effect.  Other  por- 
tions of  the  vast  facades  are  rent  in  twain  from  the  top  to  the  bot- 
tom. Chasms,  hundreds  of  feet  deep  and  wide,  wind  inward,  and 
present,  from  this  distance,  rare  effects.  What  would  not  nearer 
views  afford  ? 

The  road  rocks  its  way  along  on  the  level  earth  at  the  foot  of 
this  cliff  range,  and  begins  to  slightly  ascend  a  more  ridgy  but 
not  more  rough  path,  and  suddenly  the  Valley  of  San  Luis  Potosi 
breaks  magnificently  on  the  sight.  How  exceedingly  fortunate  is 
Mexico  in  the  location  of  her  cities !  If  great  rivers  elsewhere 
flow  by  great  towns,  as  Nature  is  said  to  condescend  to  man,  here, 
for  lack  of  great  rivers,  she  surrounds  the  chief  towns  with  superb 
circles  of  field,  lake,  wood,  and  hills — always  the  last,  and  one  or 
more  of  the  other  three.  Mexico  has  lakes  for  her  chief  circlet, 
a  necklace  of  pearls  :  Puebla  and  Queretaro  and  Leon,  fields  of 
greenest  green  and  brownest  brown  ;  Guanajuato  is  bound  about 
with  mountains  only  and  closely;  and  San  Luis  Potosi  with  forests, 
a  necklace  of  emeralds.  The  woods  fill  all  the  hollow  for  twen- 
ty miles  by  fifty,  as  seen  from  this  slight  eminence.  Two  villages 
peep  above  them,  at  least  their  church  towers  do,  all  that  usually 
have  height  or  right  to  arise  and  shine.  La  Pila  the  nearest  one  is 
called.  The  other  perches  on  a  shelf  beyond  the  woods  and  un- 
der the  hill-sides.  To  the  north,  look,  and  amidst  the  foliage  you 
see  many  a  steeple  and  dome,  with  which  the  setting  sun  is  play- 
ing. The  trees  hide  every  tiling  but  those  dancing  lights  on  the 
church  tops.  Even  in  the  chief  cities  every  thing  is  lowly  but  the 
church.  That  is  every  thing.  San  Luis  Potosi  is  that  congrega- 
tion of  flashing  minarets,  the  chief  city  of  Central  Mexico.     All 

23 


344  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

over  the  green  valley  are  corresponding  points  of  glittering  gray 
and  gold,  telling  where  subordinate  churches  rule  subordinate 
towns.  Clouds  that  have  hugged  us  close  all  day  lift  a  little  to  let 
us  drink  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  They  break  clear  away  from 
before  the  face  of  the  sun,  and  let  him  smile  his  parting  pax  vobis- 
cum.     It  is  a  picture  long  to  be  remembered. 

The  fields  are  not  all  woods  as  you  approach  them.  Those  near 
us  have  them  scattered  over  the  plowed  grounds,  as  elms  stand  in 
the  heart  of  New  England  pastures,  and  maples  in  those  of  New 
York  and  Pennsylvania.  The  Peru  or  pepper  tree  grows  to  an 
elm  and  maple  size  and  beauty  in  these  rich  spots,  and  sets  off  the 
fields  as  well  as  its  statelier  sisters.  The  effects  of  irrigation  are 
seen  in  the  barren  and  utterly  worthless  common,  one  side  of  the 
roadway,  and  the  dark,  loamy,  fruitful  soil  on  the  other.  It  sepa- 
rates the  sheep  and  the  goats.  Natures  human  so  near  are  often 
as  far  apart  in  real  condition  :  all  for  the  want,  or  the  posses- 
sion, cf  grace.  Not  Athabesca's  divide  alone  sends  its  streamlets 
to  opposite  seas  and  eternities ;  this  dusty  roadway  is  a  like  di- 
vision between  life  and  death.  Every  path  of  life  reveals  the 
same  profound,  perpetual  departure,  each  from  each,  forever  and 
forever. 

The  mules  change  their  slow  pull  into  a  gallop,  and  go,  lashed 
and  leaping,  through  the  streets  to  the  plaza  of  the  city.  This 
northernmost  of  the  central  cities  has  but  little  in  it  that  is  attract- 
ive to  a  sight-seer,  but  much  that  will  draw  the  heart  of  the  Chris- 
tian, much  over  which  to  grieve,  much  already  over  which  to  re- 
joice. It  was  good  to  meet  on  the  hotel  stairs  the  greeting  of 
Rev.  Mr.  Thomson,  the  Presbyterian  missionary,  located  here.  He 
had  been  here  six  months,  and  this  was  the  first  opportunity  he  had 
had  to  take  a  brother  by  the  hand  ;  so  our  joy  was  mutual.  Satur- 
day was  spent  in  that  most  delightful  of  tasks,  the  reading  of  the 
mail.  It  had  followed  me  from  Mexico,  and  I  greeted  the  far-off 
faces  of  home  and  friends  in  this  unexpected  place.  How  doub- 
ly dear  all  such  favors  are  when  thus  served  up !  It  is  possible 
that 


THE   GOD  MARY.  345 

"The  nightingale,  if  she  should  sing  by  day, 
When  every  goose  is  cackling,  would  be  thought 
No  better  a  musician  than  the  wren." 

But  the  wren  is  as  sweet  as  the  nightingale  when  heard  in  a  far- 
away land,  and  no  nightingale  of  professional  art  can  equal  the 
melody  of  the  home  bird,  heard  on  a  foreign  shore. 

So,  also,  these  ministerial  letters  are  full  of  refreshment.  Why 
is  it  that  ministers  so  seldom  correspond  ?  There  is  a  world  of 
richness  in  the  mutual  unbosoming  of  their  souls.  How  passion- 
ate for  Christ  are  these  outgushings  !  How  uplifting  these  aspira- 
tions and  dedications  !  How  the  world  melts,  and  three  thousand 
miles  is  a  cipher  to  the  burning  pulsings  of  electric  souls !  Write 
to  your  brother  in  Christ  warmly,  frankly,  naively,  wholly.  The 
best  letters  are  clerical.  "  Forty  Years'  Correspondence  with  Dr. 
Alexander  "  is  the  only  American  book  of  letters  worthy  to  stand 
with  Cowper's  and  Lamb's. 

There  is  not  much  to  see  in  San  Luis.  Its  sixty  thousand  peo- 
ple are  as  monotonous  as  six.  The  cathedral  is  an  improvement 
on  the  one  in  Mexico,  in  putting  its  choir  behind  its  altar.  It  gives 
breadth  and  effect  to  the  height  and  arches.  Other  churches  many 
it  has,  some  costly,  and  heavily  laden  with  gilded  altars.  Chief 
among  these  is  the  church  dedicated  to  Mary  at  the  end  of  the 
paseo,  or  calzarda,  a  broad  tree-lined  walk  of  over  a  mile.  This 
church  has  only  ascriptions  to  Mary  on  its  walls.  "Madre  del 
Creador,"  "  Madre  de  la  Divina  Gracia,"  "  Madre  del  Salvador," 
"  Madre  del  Jesu  Cristo,"  and  many  others.  Some  of  these  are 
on  the  high  road  to  blasphemy,  if  they  have  not  reached  it.  The 
Mother  of  the  Divine  Grace,  the  Mother  of  the  Creator,  are  two 
vast  strides  in  that  direction.  They  are  like  those  on  the  cathe- 
dral of  Leon,  though  these  fall  short  of  the  suggestive  divine  as- 
sumptions that  Leon  ascribes  to  her  nature  and  power. 

This  city  still  maintains  its  bull-fights,  and  the  amphitheatre  is 
preserved,  and  used  every  Sunday  night,  except  in  Lent.  The 
priest  has  to  be  busy  then,  said  a  good  Mexican  Christian,  in  ab- 
solving the  bull-fighters.     Near  this  favorite  resort  is  the  alameda, 


346  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

dry  and  treeless,  and  far  inferior  in  beauty  to  Queretaro.  For  so 
large  a  city  its  attractions  are  exceedingly  small. 

But  that  which  drew  me  hither  was  exceedingly  great.  Small  it 
is  in  the  estimation  of  the  people,  small  probably  in  the  opinion  of 
the  country  at  large,  but  it  is  by  far  the  greatest  thing  in  the  city  or 
the  State.  Let  us  go  and  look  at  this  marvel  of  San  Luis  Potosi. 
You  pass  up  the  long  and  narrow  street  that  goes  out  from  the 
west  side  of  the  plaza,  as  I  locate  points  of  compass.  It  may  be 
the  other  way,  for  all  I  know.  You  will  see  on  the  side  of  the 
house,  on  the  corner  of  the  plaza  and  this  street,  many  scars,  made 
by  bullets  and  cannon-balls.  They  are  reminiscences  of  the  revo- 
lutions which  are  apt  to  rage  fiercely  in  this  city,  and  which  always 
centre  about  the  governor's  palace,  on  the  plaza  close  to  this  cor- 
ner, at  right  angles  to  his  house.  The  fight  ran  up  and  down  this 
street,  and  around  that  corner.  Go  down  the  narrow  lane  a  third 
of  a  mile,  and  you  reach  the  first  street  crossing  it.  On  the  cor- 
ner of  that  street  was  another  battle  fought,  another  revolution  won, 
and  one  that  is  not  to  be  lost,  though  it  may  have  to  be  fought  over 
several  times  before  it  is  completely  achieved.  The  Christian's 
battle,  like  the  freeman's, 

"  Once  begun, 
Descending  long  from  sire  to  son, 
Though  often  lost,  is  surely  won." 

In  that  corner  building,  a  few  weeks  before  I  was  there,  a  mob  at- 
tempted to  break  up  Christian  worship.  Sefior  Vivera,  a  live  man 
he  is,  as  his  name  signifies,  has  been  preaching  here  for  some  time  ; 
of  late  under  the  direction  and  with  the  co-operation  of  the  Pres- 
byterians. That  Sabbath  there  was  an  attempt  made  to  mob  him 
down.  A  gang,  made  drunk  with  pulqui,  were  pushed  into  the  room 
by  their  confederates  and  leaders.  His  little  daughter,  only  five 
years  old,  began  to  cry.  He  told  her  not  to  be  afraid  ;  that  the 
same  God  and  Saviour  would  take  care  of  him  that  took  care  of 
the  prophets  and  apostles  when  mobbed  ;  that  he  did  not  fear  their 
wrath.  He  appealed  to  them  as  to  his  conduct,  for  they  had  known 
him  for  many  years.    They  filled  the  room,  and  insulted  him.    The 


A   SUNDAY-SCHOOL   BANNER.  347 

police  were  sent  for,  and  the  mob  left,  but  kept  up  a  stoning  of  the 
windows.  Three  thousand  were  in  the  streets,  full  of  threatenings 
and  slaughter.  He  went  through  the  midst  of  them  to  the  govern- 
or's palace  for  protection,  they  hurling  stones  at  him  all  the  way. 
Afterward  summoned  to  the  court,  he  asked  the  brethren  to  pray 
for  him,  that  he  might  be  preserved  from  danger ;  and  prayer  did 
ascend  for  him  fervently.  The  prosecution,  as  he  supposed,  was 
caused  by  the  priests,  who  charged  him  with  abusing  them.  This 
he  denied,  and  proved  himself  innocent. 

These  riots  have  increased  his  congregation,  many  learning  by 
them,  for  the  first  time,  that  any  other  church  but  the  Roman  ex- 
isted in  the  city. 

He  was  holding  his  meeting  a  little  farther  clown  the  same  street, 
his  lessor  having  risen  on  the  rent  till  he  was  driven  out.  He  has 
a  pleasant  casa,  and  Sabbath  morning  a  roomful  gathered  to  hear 
the  Word.  Rev.  Mr.  Thomson  assisted  in  the  service,  and  Sehor 
Vivera  read  a  written  discourse  and  prayed.  He  is  a  small,  well- 
knit,  resolute  man,  full  of  faith  and  zeal,  well  known  and  respected 
in  the  city,  as  I  found  on  visiting  with  him  many  of  the  places  of 
business. 

He  is  fond  yet  of  symbols,  and  has  a  flag  in  preparation  for  his 
Sunday-school  that  exhibits  both  his  taste  and  the  skill  of  these 
natives.  It  is  of  equal  longitudinal  sections  of  purple,  white,  and 
blue  silk.  A  small  cross  of  lapis  lazuli  tipped  with  gold  tops  off 
the  flag-staff.  On  the  white  or  central  section  is  placed  a  symbol 
of  the  sacraments  —  a  conch-shell,  significant  of  baptism,  with  a 
wreath  of  wheat  in  gold  embroidery  and  a  cluster  of  grapes  for  the 
Lord's  Supper.  A  crimson  cross  is  to  be  wrought  on  the  purple 
silk,  and  twelve  silver  stars  on  the  blue,  for  the  twelve  apostles. 
This  is  wrought  exquisitely  in  silk  and  gold,  and  surpasses  any 
Sunday-school  flag  I  have  ever  seen.  It  illustrates,  perhaps,  the 
education  of  this  people,  and  they  may  need  to  be  taught  the 
vanity  of  all  symbols.  But  there  is  stuff  in  him,  doctrinal  and 
practical,  and  I  think  he  will  be  more  and  more  a  power  in  this 
city. 


343 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


It  needs  him, 
for  it  is  woefully 
given  to  idola- 
try. The  image 
of  the  Virgin  of  the 
Ranchos,  a  league 
out  of  town,  is  vis- 
ited by  the  image 
of  Joseph,  just  be- 
fore the  rainy  sea- 
son begins,  and 
he  escorts  her  to 
town,  where  she 
stays  as  his  guest 
until  the  rain  falls, 
when  she  is  es- 
corted back  again. 
This  procession,  it 
is  said,  causes  the 
rain.  It  was  world- 
ly-wise to  select 
that  time  for  the 
visit.  But  it  has 
failed  lately,  per- 
haps because  of 
the  presence  of 
the  Protestants. 
There  has  been 
scarcely  any  rain 
here  for  two  years, 
despite  these  vis- 
the  virgin.  its  of  the  images 

and  their  worshipers.     This  failure  may  open  their  eyes  to  the  folly 

of  this  idolatry. 

We  held  English  service  at  Mr.  Thomson's  house  in  the  after- 


AN  ENEMY'S  PROPHECY. 


349 


noon,  which  many 
Mexicans  attend- 
ed. He  re-preach- 
ed the  English  ser- 
mon over  to  them 
in  Spanish.  It  was 
an  exceedingly  im- 
pressive occasion. 
Here  is  the  seed- 
germ  of  the  new 
life  that  is  to  come 
to  all  this  people. 
They  are  begin- 
ning to  discern  it. 
A  priest  said  that 
very  afternoon,  at 
a  funeral,  that  the 
Protestants  would 
succeed,  for  they 
cultivated  piety. 
May  they  cultivate 
it  more  and  more, 
here  and  at  home  ! 
That  is  the  true 
trait  of  the  Chris- 
tian— cultivate  pi- 
ety. These  breth- 
ren and  sisters 
seem  to  enjoy 
religion.  I  was 
charmed  with  their 
simplicity  and 
heartiness.  One,  a  poor  shoe-maker,  was  dressed  in  his  white  cot- 
ton pants  and  overshirt,  his  whole  wardrobe  for  all  clays.  He  re- 
paired my  boot,  but  would  take  no  pay,  nor  could  I  force  it  upon 


JOSEPH. 


35o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

him.  He  clung  to  me  as  a  child  to  its  parents.  Others  are  faith- 
fully seeking  the  light.  Students  are  spending  hours  in  search- 
ing the  Scriptures.  The  dawn  is  breaking.  The  Sun  of  Right- 
eousness appears.  May  His  beams  soon  fall  on  all  this  darkened 
land! 


A  SENSE  OF  LONELINESS.  351 


VII. 

OUT  AT  SEA. 

Leaving  Shore. — A  hot  Companion.— Parallel  Mountains.— Parks  and  Divides. 
—Hacienda  of  Bocas.— Gingerbread  Pigs.— A  ragged  Boy  Apollo. — Marriage- 
less  Motherhood. — The  Widow's  Reply. — Sierra  Prieto. — Mortevillos. — Rev- 
eling in  the  Halls  of  Montezuma. — Strife  of  Beggars. — Dusty  Reflections. — 
Venada. — Chalcos. — The  Worship  of  the  dying  Wafer. 

To  launch  out  from  San  Luis  Potosi  is  like  leaving  the  Irish 
shore  for  America,  or  Halifax  for  Europe.  You  feel  that  you  have 
got  fairly  to  sea.  San  Luis  is  the  last  of  the  group  of  central  capi- 
tals, lying  nearest  the  north,  yet  identified  in  its  location  and  life 
with  the  cities  lying  not  far  below.  Zacatecas,  farther  to  the  north, 
may  claim  like  kindred,  but  not  as  close.  The  five  towns  of  Que- 
retaro,  Guanajuato,  Leon,  Guadilajara,  and  San  Luis  Potosi  are  a 
sort  of  central  league.  To  push  above  the  latter,  especially  on  the 
road  to  Monterey,  is  like  swinging  out  into  another  country.  It  is 
four  days  to  Saltillo,  with  no  town  of  importance  intervening;  four 
days  of  reported  peril  from  robbers  and  greater  peril  from  the  fears 
of  robbers.  If  a  sense  of  loneliness  comes  over  one  when  he 
rounds  Cape  Clear  and  steers  straight  into  the  harsh  Atlantic, even 
though  he  is  facing,  and  moving  toward,  home,  so  may  a  like  sense 
affect  one  as  he  turns  his  back  on  the  real  Mexico  of  population, 
history,  and  power,  and  moves  northward  and  homeward  from  San 
Luis  Potosi.  Especially  would  this  loneliness  deepen  if  in  his  case 
he  were  a  solitary  traveler.  It  is  like  crossing  the  ocean  with  no 
fellow-passenger.  That  abyss  is  yet  more  abysmal.  One  is  then 
apt  to  feel  and  to  quote  the  dreary  lines : 

"  It  is  not  grief  thai  makes  me  moan  ; 
It  is  that  I  am  all  alone." 


,52  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

Such  might  have  been  my  feelings  as  I  entered  the  coach  at  four 
this  morning  ;  for  although  I  found  another  passenger  there,  I  was 
as  far  apart  from  him  as  Nimrod's  leaders  found  themselves  from 
each  other,  all  of  a  sudden,  on  the  plains  of  Shinar.  And  at  the 
end  of  a  single  posta,  we  separated  in  body,  as  we  had  already  been 
in  tongue,  and  I  was  actually  left  in  the  Selkirk  condition.  I  made 
a  pillow  of  the  coach  side  till  morning,  not  letting  solitude  destroy 
slumber.  The  road  was  easy,  and  the  sleep  not  much  broken.  At 
sunrise  we  change  horses  at  a  little  cluster  of  huts,  dignified  with 
the  stately  Spanish  name  of  La  Estansuela.  It  is  remarkable,  this 
swell  of  names  over  nothing.  The  land  is  full  of  it  in  many  other 
ways. 

Here  we  commenced  climbing  the  slight  ridge  that  limits  on  this 
side  the  beautiful  valley  of  San  Luis.  All  the  ridges  so  far  are 
slight,  but  all  exist.  The  divides  are  of  various  breadths,  from  two 
to  five  miles,  are  barren,  dry,  stony,  but  with  irrigation  from  the 
surrounding  hills  could  be  turned  into  blossoming  gardens.  The 
cactus  grows  wild  over  them,  and  the  maguey,  showing  the  capaci- 
ty of  the  soil,  and  its  readiness  to  yield  to  suitable  culture. 

The  sun  breaks  in  upon  us  with  a  fierce  glare,  like  a  lion  on  his 
prey.  He  says,  evidently,  "  You  want  a  companion  ;  I'll  be  a  good 
deal  more  of  one  than  you  desire."  There  is  anger  in  his  eye.  like 
the  blistering  risings  of  the  heated  term  in  the  North.  He  is  as 
good  as  his  word.  A  hotter  day  I  have  not  seen  in  Mexico  or  else- 
where. 

The  mountains  range  on  either  side  of  the  road  from  three  to 
five  leagues  distant,  and  never  approach  it  much  nearer.  You  are 
sure  they  will  shut  you  in  ahead,  they  look  so  near ;  but  a  sharper 
or  a  nearer  view  shows  a  gap  perpetually  opening,  and  through  that 
gap  you  are  constantly  passing.  It  is  indeed  no  gap,  but  the  mere 
line  of  the  uneven  parallel.  How  far  it  may  continue  I  have  yet 
to  learn.  It  has  been  with  me  so  far  ever  since  leaving  Mexico, 
and  especially  uniform  this  side  of  Queretaro.  In  fact,  it  seems  a 
trait  of  the  land,  the  side  journey  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to 
Leon  being  a  perpetual  path  between  lofty  ranges  of  hills,  from  ten 


A   SITTER  FOR  EASTMAN.  353 

to  twenty  miles  apart.  These  divides  open  into  lower  parks,  cir- 
cular or  oblong,  of  various  sizes,  some  embracing  a  hundred  square 
miles,  some  sixty,  some  forty,  some  ten.  These  parks  are  usual- 
ly cultivated,  especially  in  their  lower  levels,  where  they  can  most 
easily  command  the  needful  irrigation.  They  are  beautiful,  as  seen 
from  the  low  ridge  that  incloses  them  on  the  north  and  south,  and 
when  under  culture  are  beautiful  on  closest  inspection.  Otherwise 
their  parched  and  wild  condition  mars  their  countenance,  on  a 
nearer  view. 

The  first  divide  north  of  the  San  Luis  Valley  on  this  road  opens 
upon  the  hacienda  of  Bocas,  or  Mouths,  as  pretty  a  spot  to  the 
eye  as  one  would  wish  to  see.  It  is  a  bit  of  park,  full  of  trees  in 
full  leaf,  fields  of  wheat  and  barley  intensely  green,  and  contrasting 
wonderfully  richly  with  the  surrounding  nakedness.  The  drawing 
up  to  this  hacienda  and  halting  do  not  improve  its  effect.  The 
human  aspect  is  not  equal  to  the  earthly.  It  is  the  more  earthly. 
Boys  and  old  women  and  men  are  busy  at  this  early  hour  in  beg- 
ging for  their  daily  bread.  I  invested  a  cuartillia  (three  cents)  in 
ginger-snaps,  cut  into  the  shape  of  pigs,  a  favorite  form  of  that  gin- 
gerbread here,  for  which  three  cents  I  received  eighteen  of  the  gin- 
gerbread pigs  aforesaid.  Having  been  treated  so  liberally,  I  felt 
inclined  to  treat  others  liberally,  and  so  dispensed  my  swinish  fa- 
vors to  the  boys  and  girls  scattered  around. 

One  boy  was  especially  attractive ;  he  wore  his  ragged  zerape 
over  his  naked  shoulders,  a  feat  somebody  was  laughed  at  for  say- 
ing Apollo  did  ;  but  this  brown  boy  Apollo  did  it.  It  was  in  tatters 
and  small  at  the  start,  but  he  wore  it  as  a  king.  A  like  ragged  gir- 
dle was  worn  in  an  equally  stately  manner.  He  had  his  kite  ready 
for  flying,  and  was  as  perfect  a  model  of  boy  as  ever  sat  to  an  Ital- 
ian artist.  How  Eastman,  who  painted  the  "  Barefoot  Boy,"  would 
have  delighted  to  have  this  ragged,  royal,  three-fourths  naked  little 
scamp  sit  for  his  picture  !  'Twas  easy  to  give  him  a  ginger-snap 
pig.  I  hoped  to  see  him  some  day  not  as  romantically  clad  or  sub- 
clad,  in  some  Christian  school,  and  possibly  pulpit.      Quim  sabe? 

A  hideous,  homely  dame  was  at  the  fountain,  filling  her  pitcher. 


354  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

A  girl  of  fifteen  was  on  one  side  ;  one  of  five  on  the  other.  I  made 
friends  with  the  mother  by  the  gift  of  one  of  my  pigs  to  the  little 
one.  I  asked  her  about  her  husband.  She  had  none.  Was  he 
dead  ?  "  No."  Where  was  the  father  of  these  children  ?  "  In  Mon- 
terey." How  many  children  had  she?  "These  two  only."  The  same 
father  ?  "  Yes."  That  conversation  revealed  the  Samaritan-woman 
condition  of  this  people.  Very  few  are  married.  It  is  said  the 
fees  of  the  priest  are  so  high  as  to  prevent  it.  He  asks  eight  dol- 
lars a  wedding.  But  as  all  marriages  now  are  civil,  and  the  price 
the  State  asks  is  not  high,  I  think  the  charge  against  the  clergy 
does  not  explain  the  real  cause  of  this  social  degeneracy.  It  is  in 
the  blood.  There  was  no  seeming  sense  of  shame  in  her  answers, 
no  modesty,  or  lack  of  it.  Far  prettier  and  more  affecting  was  the  an- 
swer of  an  old  beggar-woman,  later  in  the  day,  to  my  inquiry,  Where 
is  your  husband  ?     She  pointed  to  the  ground,  and  said  nothing. 

It  was  a  strange  feeling  that  I  had  as  I  sat  thus  by  the  well,  and 
talked  with  this  poor  outcast  woman,  who  is  without  any  clear,  con- 
vincing conscience,  and  has  no  hope  except  that  Christ  comes  and 
talks  with  her  and  such  as  her  through  His  ministers  and  Church. 
"  Lift  up  your  eyes,"  you  can  hear  Him  say,  "  and  behold  the  field  \ 
for  it  is  white  already  to  harvest.  Pray  ye  therefore  the  Lord  of 
the  harvest,  that  he  will  send  forth  laborers  into  His  harvest." 

This  hacienda  follows  us  for  ten  miles,  skirting  the  mountains  on 
the  lower  or  eastern  side,  and  looking  rich  exceedingly  in  orchards 
and  fields.  The  road  runs  on  the  higher  levels,  burned  to  ashes 
with  six  months'  rainlessness,  but  still  growing  the  mesquite  in 
large  numbers,  which  give  a  pretty  wild-wood,  rural  character  to  the 
road,  as  it  winds  in  and  out  among  the  light-green  feathery  branches. 

The  mountains  come  nearer  the  road  on  the  west,  mountains  full 
of  silver,  the  mozo  of  the  coach  says  ;  for  I  have  climbed  out  of  my 
lonely  centre  to  the  seat  with  the  driver.  The  range  is  called  the 
Sierra  Prieto.  At  its  base  is  a  horrible  cluster  of  huts,  only  four 
or  five  feet  high  in  the  ridge-pole,  covered  with  thatch,  and  barba- 
rous almost  to  the  Ottawa  condition  of  debasement.  It  swings 
forth  the  stately  title  of  Mortevillos,  which,  if  it  meant  "  Deadville," 


MONTEZUMA    REVELING.  355 

would  not  be  far  from  the  truth.  It  is  a  painful  answer  to  all  this 
silver  range,  this  terrible,  debased  humanity.  It  is  a  greater  an- 
swer to  the  Church  that  professes  to  guide  them.  A  cross  over  one 
or  two  of  the  huts  shows  the  faith  without  works  which  so-  charac- 
terizes the  most  of  the  Roman  Church  in  this  and  every  country. 

The  valley,  whose  southern  edge  this  ragged  rancho  fringes,  is 
broad  and  handsome,  but  not  as  seemingly  well  cultivated  as  the 
one  preceding  ;  perhaps  because  the  one  owner  there  keeps  up  a 
more  perfect  establishment  than  the  many  owners  here. 

In  its  centre  you  see  the  white  towers  and  domes  of  a  church, 
and,  driving  to  it,  find  yourself  in  the  large  and  fresh -looking  vil- 
lage of  Montezuma. 

In  my  college  days  I  had  heard  much  of  reveling  in  the  halls  of 
the  Montezumas.  It  was  the  time  of  the  Mexican  war,  and  that  was 
a  favorite  phrase  of  that  conflict.  I  had  had  no  good  opportunity 
to  indulge  in  such  reveling  heretofore.  There  is  only  one  place 
where  it  could  even  pretend  to  be  in  the  halls  of  that  emperor — 
Chapultepec,  and  that  was  built  long  after  he  died  ;  and  Lerdo 
gave  no  breakfast  there  while  I  was  in  Mexico,  and  had  he  clone 
so  I  should  not  have  been  invited.  But  here  comes,  unexpectedly, 
the  real  article  ;  for  breakfast  is  to  be  served  up  here,  and  we  shall 
indeed  revel  in  the  halls  of  Montezuma. 

Do  you  wish  to  know  in  what  the  reveling  consists?  Enter  the 
large  square  court-yard  of  the  Meson  del  Refugio  (House  of  Ref- 
uge). A  door  on  one  of  its  sides  opens  into  a  clean,  cool  room  ; 
the  white  cover  and  clean  plates  look  attractive.  Our  bread  is  hot 
tortillas.  Truly  Montezumaish,  for  he  never  saw  French  rolls,  and, 
curiously  enough,  this  is  the  first  place  I  have  not  seen  those  rolls 
in  all  the  journey,  and  only  once  before  in  all  the  country.  The 
cakes  are  light,  warm,  and  edible,  more  so  than  corn-meal  fritters 
in  the  States. 

Next  comes  rice,  also  cooked  better  than  in  the  States,  cooked 
dry,  and  each  kernel  by  itself,  not  mashed  and  moist.  It  is  also 
spiced  with  cloves — the  first  time  I  ever  saw  it,  and  I  hope  not  the 
last,  for  it  greatly  improved  the  dish. 


,56  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

The  moat  fell  back  from  this  high  standard.  Steaks,  fried  in  fat 
and  chilli ;  goats'  flesh,  in  a  gravy  of  chilli,  a  hot,  thick,  tomato-col- 
ored gravy.  To  neither  of  these  did  I  incline.  But  the  frejollis, 
or  bearfs,  were  good,  and  the  tea  and  coffee  excellent.  So  I  rev- 
eled, quite  Spartan-like,  in  the  hall  of  Montezuma,  and  all  for  four 
reals,  or  fifty  cents.  As  I  took  my  seat  at  the  table,  beggars  came 
and  took  their  stand  at  the  door-way,  first  an  old  man,  then  an  old 
woman.  Very  decrepit,  but  very  obstinate,  was  the  old  lady.  She 
was  going  to  march  immediately  on  the  enemy's  works  ;  but  the 
old  man  held  her  in.  So  she  squatted  at  the  door-way  and  talked 
with  him,  waiting  my  outgoing.  She  grabbed  my  legs  with  her 
skinny  clutch.  I  surrendered,  and  gave  her  a  cuartillia,  on  condi- 
tion she  would  give  the  old  man  half.  This  she  promised,  but  I 
fear  failed  to  keep  her  word,  for  he  came  to  me  afterward  and 
said  she  had  not  given  him  his  share.  He  was  not  the  first  victim 
of  misplaced  confidence,  especially  of  man  in  woman.  How  can 
beggars  be  charitable  ?  Perhaps,  however,  she  gave  him  his  share, 
and  he  pretended  she  had  not  in  order  to  get  a  duplicate  from  me. 
Who  can  trust  who  here  ? 

There  is  a  fine  stone  monument  in  the  plaza  to  Montezuma,  and 
some  of  the  buildings  are  pretty.  The  fields  about  are  green,  and 
in  the  cool  of  the  day  there  are  a  good  many  worse  places  than 
Montezuma. 

I  leave  these  beggars,  who  look  old  enough  to  be  the  very  con- 
temporaries of  the  unfortunate  ruler,  and  get  inside  the  coach,  hav- 
ing all  the  three  seats  to  myself.  I  stretch  upon  them  all,  and  sleep 
as  soundly  as  if  on  a  bed,  more  soundly  than  on  my  too  fully  oc- 
cupied bed  last  night  at  the  San  Luis  Hotel.  As  I  rolled  softly 
along,  I  felt  the  superiority  of  this  sort  of  travel  over  the  tossing 
and  sea-sick  steamer,  and  was  adapting  Saxe  to  the  occasion  : 

"  Bless  us,  this  is  pleasant, 
Riding  in  the  stage." 

Even  when  the  dust  and  heat  grew  dense  and  potent,  I  found  re- 
lief in  that  sublime  line  of  Cowper,  and  changed  this  cloud  into 
that  grand  vision  : 


THE   "HOLY   WAFER:1  357 

"  For  He  whose  cars  the  winds  are,  and  the  clouds 
The  dust  that  waits  upon  His  sultry  march 
When  sin  hath  moved  Him,  and  His  wrath  is  hot, 
Shall  visit  earth  with  mercy ;  shall  descend 
Propitious  in  His  chariot  paved  with  love  ; 
And  what  His  storms  have  blasted  and  defaced 
For  man's  revolt,  shall  with  a  smile  repair." 

May  He  descend  in  mercy  soon  upon  this  long-suffering  people. 

The  same  parks  and  hills  and  divides  accompany  us  into  the 
next  cultured  hollow,  which  incloses  the  flourishing  town  of  Ve- 
nada.  Thence  our  last  posta  brings  us  to  Chalcos,  a  mineral  town 
of  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants.  Into  its  large  square,  centred  with 
a  fountain,  we  gallop,  before  five  o'clock,  and  finish  our  first  day  at 
sea.  How  glad  the  sea-sick  people  on  the  Atlantic  would  be  if 
they  could  get  off,  and  get  into  unshaking  beds  every  twelve  hours. 
This  gives  even  the  stage  a  vast  superiority  over  the  ship.  Twelve 
hours'  run,  twelve  rest,  carry  us  without  great  weariness  forward  to 
our  port. 

This  is  a  flourishing  silver  mining  town  of  small  size.  Yet  a 
million  of  dollars  a  year  are  taken  out  of  its  mines.  Four  hacien- 
das reduce  the  ore.  The  mines  are  owned  by  French  gentlemen. 
Several  pretty  plazas  adorn  the  town,  which  romantically  lies  on 
the  slope  of  not  steep  hills. 

As  I  was  walking  through  the  street  just  at  dark  with  a  native 
who  was  showing  me  the  place,  I  saw  the  people  kneeling,  and 
heard  the  bell  toll.  Asking  my  man  the  meaning,  "El  Viatico," 
he  replies — the  Holy  Wafer  borne  to  the  dying  bed.  The  priest 
came,  with  a  black  umbrella  over  his  head  ;  boys  with  candles  on 
either  side,  and  a  few  persons  walking  with  him.  He  held  the  wa- 
fer in  his  hand.  Down  went  my  guide  upon  his  knees.  After  he 
had  passed,  I  asked  who  it  was  that  was  dying.  "Un  grand  hom- 
bre"  (an  old  man).  "Sick  long?"  "Only  fifteen  days."  "Of 
what?"  "Fever."  So  a  poor  soul  is  going  to  his  account  to-night 
in  this  town.  How  many  elsewhere  the  wide  earth  over  !  Our  first 
day  may  be  our  last.  "  Be  ye  also  ready  ;  for  in  such  an  hour  as 
ye  think  not  the  Son  of  Man  cometh."     This  was  the  first  sight  of 


358  OUR   XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

the  procession  of  the  Holy  Wafer  I  had  seen.  It  would  not  have 
been  allowed  in  the  larger  cities.  Nor  could  I  have  witnessed  it 
without  kneeling  myself  a  few  years  ago,  except  at  the  cost  of  my 
life. 

The  hot  day  has  grown  cool,  a  fresh  breeze  blows  from  the  hills, 
and  a  good  rest  will  prepare  for  our  second  day  at  sea. 


A   DISAGREEABLE  PLACE.  359 


VIII. 

MID- OCEAN. 

The  "Rolling  Forties."  — Ceral  Hard-tack.  — Not  so  Hard.— Mexican  Birds. 
— Smoking-girls. — Laguna  Seca.— La  Punta.— First  Breakfast  in  an  Adobe. 
—Hacienda  of  Precita—  The  Spanish  Bayonet—  Mattejuala.— Birnam  Wood 
marching  on  Dunsinane. — The  first  and  last  Mosquito  of  Mexico. — Yankee 
Singing. — Worse  threatened. 

The  point  in  a  journey  where  you  strike  the  dead  neutral  cen- 
tre between  the  coining  and  the  going  is  almost  always  one  of 
intense  disagreeableness.  Such  the  ocean  wanderer  finds  the 
"rolling:  forties,"  in  "the  dead  waste  and  middle  of"  that  tire- 
some  ferriage.  I  am  in  the  like  condition  now.  I  doubt  if  many 
would  take  this  trip  could  they  see  this  room  before  they  start ; 
nor  would  many  cross  the  ocean  if  they  were  treated  to  a  foretaste 
of  that  ridge  where  the  waves  roll  east  and  west,  and  the  spirits 
sink  like  lead  in  the  mighty  waters. 

The  room  is  in  the  Casa  Diligencias  Generales,  in  the  town  of  Ce- 
ral, which  contains  three  thousand  human  inhabitants.  Of  course, 
being  the  stage-house,  it  is  the  best  in  the  place ;  and  it  is  the  best 
room  in  the  house;  since  I, being  the  only  passenger,  have  my  pick. 
Look  at  it.  First  look  at  that  muddy  water,  a  tumbler  of  which 
that  dirty  boy  has  just  brought  in.  A  Mississippi  boatman  could 
not  taste  it.  It  is  worse  than  the  Thames  after  Hood's  "  Bridge  of 
Sighs"  had  spanned  it. 

"  Drink  of  it,  lave  in  it  then,  if  you  can." 

It  stands  on  a  dressing-table  that  saw  paint  in  spots  a  century  ago, 
and  has  hardly  seen  soap  since.  Adjoining  it  is  a  like  white-and- 
gray  wash-stand,  its  legs  inclining  inward  from  the  decrepitude  of 

24 


,6o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

age.  In  the  centre  is  a  round  table,  on  which  this  is  being  written, 
that  is  not  quite  so  venerable.  The  red  of  its  varnish  still  largely 
covers  it,  but  it  makes  up  in  dust  for  what  it  lacks  in  years.  A 
single  chair  is  present,  alike  venerable,  too  venerable  to  be  in  serv- 
ice, like  a  worn-out  preacher  not  well  supported  with  Conference 
gifts.  One  fears  all  the  time  that  it  will  break  down  in  its  present 
occupancy,  as  one  fears  a  like  breakdown  in  a  like  superannuate  if 
he  is  put  to  work  belonging  to  his  prime.  A  like  dilapidated  bed- 
stead stands  in  each  of  three  of  the  corners  of  the  room.  All  to- 
gether do  not  seem  strong  enough  to  uphold  their  probable  pres- 
ent occupants,  let  alone  two  hundred  pounds  more. 

The  floor  is  of  cement,  like  a  good  cellar  bottom,  well  covered 
with  dust.  The  paper  is  torn  off  half  up  the  walls,  and  is  badly 
rent  in  the  ceiling,  which  is  of  the  same  unsubstantial  stuff,  as  is 
not  unfrequently  the  case  in  this  country.  A  door  opening  into 
another  apartment  has  three  of  its  six  window-panes  knocked  out. 
Truly  one  might  well  sigh  for  some  other  lodge  in  this  vast  wilder- 
ness. 

Yet  every  cloud  has  its  silver  lining.  The  "rolling  forties"  at 
least  roll  well.  What  are  the  good  points  about  this  cuarti? 
First,  it  is  roomy — fifty  feet  at  least  long,  and  twenty  wide.  It  will 
make  a  good  chapel  for  us  one  of  these  days.  Then  it  has  a  fine 
picture  of  the  Virgin — of  course  it  could  hardly  be  of  any  body 
else  here — a  picture  that  an  artist  made,  her  sweet  looks  raised 
heavenward,  a  dove  in  one  hand  resting  over  her  heart,  an  exqui- 
site bouquet  in  the  other  lifted  to  the  skies.  I  should  like  to  car- 
ry it  off,  both  for  its  beauty  and  for  its  lack  of  fitness  to  these  disa- 
greeable surroundings.  Then  it  opens  on  a  sunny  court  surround- 
ed with  flower-pots,  but  not  many  flowers,  though  roses  and  gerani- 
ums give  it  a  home-like  look,  and  feeble  agave  varieties  show  that 
we  are  in  the  tropics,  but  getting  out  of  them.  Birds  line  the  walls, 
singing  merrily  their  vespers.  The  chico  is  the  favorite  in  number, 
if  not  in  melody.  This  is  not  so  very  small  as  its  name  signifies. 
Perhaps  cage-life  has  made  it  greater  in  size  as  well  -as  song.  It 
is  gray  and  white,  not  unlike  our  ground  chip-bird,  though  larger 


CIGARETTING   COMPANIONS.  361 

and  prettier.  The  burrion  is  small,  canary-like  in  size,  dark-striped, 
with  yellow  streaked  slightly  in.  Here  is  a  blue  canary,  the  first 
I  ever  saw — canarid  azul  the  hostess  calls  it.  It  is  as  handsome 
as  its  yellow  kindred,  and,  for  a  novelty,  prettier.  The  cardinal  bird 
concludes  the  circuit,  radiant  of  plumage  and  crested  with  scar- 
let, a  haughty  representative  of  his  name.  So  birds  and  flowers 
are  some  consolation,  and  may  even  incline  us  to  apologize  for  the 
dust,  for  which  the  mistress  is  perhaps  no  more  to  blame  than  is 
Cincinnati  for  its  coal  grime,  or  Boston  for  its  east  winds,  or  New 
York  for  its  mosquitoes.  For  the  plains  are  dry,  and  the  winds 
high. 

Another  good  point  about  this  place  is  its  situation.  Seldom 
has  a  better  or  bigger  town  an  equal  location.  The  mountains 
come  close  to  it  on  the  west.  Superb  black  sierras  they  look,  after 
this  sunset  hour,  superb  golden  purple  just  before.  They  are,  how- 
ever, inwardly  neither  black  nor  golden,  but  full  of  silver.  The  one 
nearest,  and  that  rises  solitary  and  splendid  out  of  a  vast  plain,  is 
the  Sierra  Catorce,  and  it  is  said  has  yielded  a  million  of  dollars  in 
two  months.  These  mountains  are  offset  by  the  plain  which  they 
limit  close  on  this  side,  but  lie  low  in  the  eastern  horizon,  being 
there  thirty  miles  away. 

Last  and  best,  this  has  the  good  point  that  it  is  nearer  home 
than  any  previous  casa.  The  mid-ocean  is  agreeable,  if  for  no  oth- 
er reason,  because  it  is  mid-ocezn.  So  in  this  feature  of  our  dis- 
mal house  we  rejoice,  and  will  rejoice.  When  the  lad  said  we 
started  away  at  three,  I  said  "  Good  ;"  if  he  said  "  at  twelve,"  I 
should  have  said,  "better;"  if"  now,"  "best."  Let  us  while  away 
the  interregnum  with  recording  the  log  of  the  day.  It  will  make 
the  night  less  tedious. 

We  left  the  town  of  Chalcos  at  our  usual  hour  of  four,  four  of  us 
this  time,  for  a  rarity,  being  in  the  coach.  At  six  we  concluded  our 
sleep,  and  looked  each  other  in  the  face.  My  fellow-travelers  were 
two  young  ladies,  of  seventeen  to  twenty,  and  their  little  Cinderella, 
a  maid  of  twelve.  They  were  going  to  Mattejuala,  three  postas  off. 
The  youngest  of  the  two  smoked  several  cigarettes  before  the  day 


,(32  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

had  fairly  begun.  She  was  a  bright,  laughing  girl,  who  was  only 
following,  as  they  say  here,  la  costumbre  de  la  pais  (the  custom  of 
the  country).  How  is  it  worse  for  girls  than  boys?  Men  and 
women  drink  together.  They  can  as  properly  indulge  in  this  vice. 
Not  far  from  sunrise  we  pass  the  beautiful  hacienda  of  Laguna 
Seca  (Dry  Lake).  It  relieves  the  uncultured  dreariness  of  the 
landscape  with  its  finish  and  fineness  of  luxuriant  green.  The  gate 
towers  of  stone  are  prettily  capped  and  pointed  in  colored  mor- 
tars. Its  large  plaza  is  swept  clean.  A  pretty  little  pond,  faced, 
walled,  and  encircled  with  trees,  increases  its  attractiveness,  and 
even  the  huts  of  the  laborers  are  made  into  cottages.  A  dozen 
or  more  stand  end  to  the  street,  neatly  built  and  thatched.  I  was 
surprised  at  this,  for  it  was  the  first  attempt  I  had  seen  on  any  ha- 
cienda to  make  the  home  of  the  work-people  attractive.  It  soon 
dies  away ;  for  only  a  few  rods  off  is  a  cluster  of  as  mean  huts 
as  any  in  the  worst  spots  on  the  roadside.  It  would  cost  too  much 
to  fix  all  the  homes  of  the  people  that  way.  These  are  specimens 
of  what  might  be  done  and  will  yet  be  done ;  for  all  these  dens  are 
to  be  yet  pleasant  and  comfortable  homes. 

Leaving  this  partly  perfect  spot,  we  soon  get  into  the  thick  of  the 
hills.  The  open  pass  which  I  had  thought  yesterday  would  ac- 
company us  all  the  way  gives  out,  or  we  turn  away  from  it.  The 
spurs  of  the  hills  hug  us,  and  we  wind  around  and  around  them  for 
several  leagues.  The  soil  is  parched,  cleft,  barren,  save  of  the  per- 
petual cactus  and  mesquite.  We  get  at  last  away  from  these  too- 
close  embraces,  pass  some  plowed  fields,  and  large  thickets  of  the 
mesquite,  and  change  mules  at  the  poor  station  of  Solis,  a  mere 
rancho.  The  scenery  broadens,  and  in  a  few  leagues  we  scamper 
through  the  quite  good-sized  village  of  La  Vega  de  Gaudalupe. 

A  bit  of  a  rancho  of  two  or  three  huts,  called  La  Punta,  is  our 
next  stopping-place.  It  is  our  breakfasting- place  also.  It  is  a 
new  experience  to  enter  an  adobe  hut  for  breakfast,  but  travel- 
ing is  intended  for  new  experiences.  So  hunger  drives  me  to  the 
white  table-cloth,  the  clean  earth  floor,  and  the  bill  of  fare.  A 
brisk  and  pleasant  lady  serves  the  table,  assisted  by  a  not  so  brisk 


THE  SPANISH  BAYONET.  363 

or  pleasant,  but  much  older,  man.  The  tortillas  are  warm,  and  the 
roasted  chicken  is  as  good  as  I  have  tasted  in  the  country,  far 
better  than  most  I  have  tried  to  eat.  Milk  is  wanting ;  they  have 
not  any.  I  protest  and  persevere  until  he  brings  me  two  tum- 
blers of  delicious  milk,  for  which  he  wants  a  real  extra,  but  is 
content  with  his  half-dollar  at  the  last.  I  asked  her  if  he  was 
her  father.  "No,"  she  replied,  laughing  ;  "my  husband.  He  is 
mas  grande  "  (much  older).  They  had  twelve  children.  He  said 
he  went  to  church  every  Sunday  with  his  wife  and  children  to  Mat- 
tejuala,  twenty  miles  off,  which  I  doubt.  If  any  body  wants  good 
milk  and  good  roast  chicken  at  a  rancho,  let  them  call  on  Senor 
and  Seiiora  Tebucio,  at  La  Punta. 

The  hills  fall  back  from  this  point  (probably  called  La  Punta 
from  that  circumstance),  and  we  descend  gradually  into  a  handsome 
plain,  almost  a  circle,  from  six  to  ten  miles  wide.  We  skirt  its 
eastern  side,  leaving  all  the  plain  to  the  vast  fields  of  the  hacienda 
of  Precita.  The  hills  close  it  in  on  every  side,  except  a  tiny  open- 
ing on  the  north-east.  This,  as  we  come  near,  widens  into  a  pass, 
called  El  Puerto  del  Terquaro  (the  Pass  or  Gate  of  Terquaro). 
This  lets  us  down  gradually,  as  by  terraces  and  slopes,  into  the 
handsome  plain  of  Mattejuala.  In  this  plain  the  palma,  or  Span- 
ish bayonet,  as  they  call  it  in  Colorado,  assumes  pre-eminence  over 
all  rivals,  both  for  number  and  size.  It  had  been  coming  into  note 
more  and  more  the  last  score  of  miles.  Here  it  opens  into  forests, 
miles  square.  It  assumes  almost  the  majesty  of  oaks,  and  extends 
an  ocean  of  verdure,  refreshing  to  the  eye,  though  not  of  especial 
value  to  any  other  sense.  A  score  of  miles  along  its  quaint  hedge- 
rows and  deep  green  effects  brings  us  to  Mattejuala,  the  largest 
town  between  San  Luis  Potosi  and  Saltillo.  Here  our  cigaretting 
girls  disembark,  and  hie  round  a  corner  to  the  broad-leaved  gate- 
way of  a  cool  one-story  house,  where  they  probably  still  keep  up 
their  chattering  and  smoking.  The  town  is  large  and  lazy,  not 
having  life  enough  hardly  on  that  lazy  day  to  harness  our  mules, 
or  even  to  see  it  done.  They,  however,  have  enough  to  fly  away, 
and   dive   into   the   outer   country  of  palms   and  mesquite   like   a 


364  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

mountain  torrent.  Idler  fancies  crept  over  them  as  soon  as  they 
got  well  out  of  the  last  adobe  lane  of  the  gray  and  glowing  town, 
and  they  fell  into  a  soberer  pace.  It  was  another  stretch  over  the 
same  wide,  bayoneted  plain,  which  looked  as  if  myriads  of  soldiers 
in  Lincoln  green  were  standing  firmly  at  their  arms  over  the  wide 
prairie,  or  as  if  Birnara  Wood  was  getting  ready  to  march  on  Dun- 
.  sinane.  It  was  a  superb  army,  and  suggested  the  prettiest  of  uni- 
forms for  a  soldier's  gala-day,  if  not  for  actual  service. 

The  level  drive  brought  us,  ere  fall  of  night,  to  this  dingy  dwell- 
ing-place of  Ceral.  I  stroll  in  its  dull  'plaza,  and  buy  poor  or- 
anges and  poorer  bananas.  The  Hot  Lands  are  leaving  us.  A 
mosquito  buzzes  about  my  ear,  the  first  I  had  heard  or  seen  in  all 
the  country.  He  seemed  so  lonely  that  it  appeared  a  deed  of 
charity  to  put  him  into  the  ghostly  company,  innumerable  of  his 
kindred,  that  the  hand  of  man  has  slain. 

An  imaginative  metaphysician  said  once,  in  a  sermon  "On  Com- 
"pensation,"  "The  little  insect  you  crush  between  your  thumb  and 
finger  sails  away  on  silvery  wings  to  a  loftier  Empyrean  ;"  and  an 
irreverent  listener  commented,  "  Every  time,  then,  you  kill  a  mos- 
quito you  sting  an  angel."  This  was  not  of  so  high  a  faith  as  the 
little  girl,  who  soliloquized  to  a  fly,  held  between  her  thumb  and 
finger,  "Itty  fy,  you  want  to  see  Dod  ?  You  s'all  see  Dod  ;"'  and 
a  crunching  of  her  finger  and  thumb,  and  grinding  of  the  fly  be- 
tween them,  puts  her  promise,  as  far  as  she  could  do  so,  into  effect. 
So  far  has  this  mosquito  murder  led  us,  and  him,  away  from  this 
dismal  plaza. 

Vespers  were  being  held  in  a  little  church,  and  a  melodeon, 
with  a  boy  player  and  girl  singers,  gave  this  usually  formal  service 
a  home-familiarity  that  was  so  far  agreeable.  May  this  attainment 
lead  to  higher  graces  of  social  worship. 

The  sun  sinks  behind  the  silver  hills,  changing  them  to  amethyst 
and  gold,  and  the  dreary  cell  of  Ceral  is  reluctantly  re-entered. 
Dinner  is  as  bad  as  the  chambers  ;  bed  and  board  alike  disgust. 
The  meats  are  cooked  horribly,  and  are  of  horrid  materials.  I 
follow  Meg  Merrilies's  advice,  "Gape,  sinner,  and  swallow,"  and 


ANTICIPATED   HORRORS.  365 

make  out  to  worry  a  few  mouthfuls  clown.  The  administrador 
of  the  Diligencia  Company,  to  whom  I  complain  of  such  accom- 
modation and  fare,  replies,  "  Wait  till  you  sleep  in  a  rancho  to- 
morrow night."  So  I  anticipate  worse  horrors  on  the  morrow. 
Shall  I  find  them  ? 


366  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


IX. 

NEARING  SHORE. 

Preparations  against  a  Rancho. — A  golden  Set. — Bonaventura. — A  Rancho  : 
what  is  it  ? — Companions. — Aztec  or  Chinese  ? — Desolation. — Tropic  Thorns 
and  Flowers. — An  Oasis. — Hacienda  of  Solado,  and  its  unexpected  Hospital- 
ities.— Freaks  of  the  Spanish  Bayonet. — Green  velvet  Mountains. — The  true 
Protector. 

One  day's  sail  from  land  is  not  thought  much  of  by  the  sea- 
tossed  traveler.  The  stage-tossed  may  feel  equally  comforted. 
Though  the  stage  is  to  be  my  companion  more  days  than  the 
one,  still  this  oceanic  stretch  in  its  voyaging  will  come  to  a  pros- 
perous issue,  God  willing  and  working,  to-morrow  at  the  heat  of  the 
day,  which  is  not  noon,  but  three  in  the  afternoon,  in  this  burning 
sky. 

I  was  warned  last  night,  at  my  dismal  quarters  at  Ceral,  that  this 
night  would  be  far  more  miserable.  So  I  fortified  myself  with  big 
gingerbread  swine  —  their  ginger-snaps  hereabouts  take  no  other 
shape — with  a  French  roll,  a  Bologna  sausage  that  has  done  duty 
heretofore  as  a  pistol,  its  tinfoil  covering  making  it  look  like  a 
shining  silvered  barrel,  and  all  the  more  terrible,  as  it  peeped  from 
my  breast-pocket,  to  the  non-appearing  robbers.  So  fearful  was  I 
that  this  would  protect  me,  that  it  was  hidden  away  in  my  valise, 
and  is  now  to  be  agreeably  eaten.  That  is  more  than  turning 
swords  into  pruning-hooks,  even  pistols  into  meat.  For  dulces  I 
had  oranges,  bananas,  and  pea-nuts.  But  the  pea-nuts  are  not 
baked,  and  the  bananas  are  hard  and  horrid,  so  that  I  have  to  fall 
back  on  the  oranges,  and  sour  they  are. 

The  rancho  food  thus  being  provided  for,  the  rest  of  its  accom- 
paniments are  easily  accepted.     On  a  big  log,  resting  on  a  white 


BONA  VENTURA.  367 

artificial  mould  thrown  round  a  little  pond  of  brackish  water,  I  am 
looking  at  the  setting  sun  and  writing  these  rambling  notes. 

The  rancho  "  has  a  pleasant  seat."  All  around  it  tower  magnif- 
icent mountains  not  far  away,  from  two  to  five  miles.  They  com- 
pletely inclose  it,  except  toward  the  south,  where  a  green  opening 
shows  no  end.  Like  the  green  sea,  it  lies  on  the  horizon,  only  it 
is  still,  as  that  sea  is  not,  and  is  touched  at  its  sides  with  the  hills 
of  blue.  The  western  ridges,  where  the  sun  is  just  descending,  are 
black  already  with  the  shadow  of  night,  the  eastern  glow  richly  in 
his  rays.  In  blessings  over  the  sleeping  scene,  a  high  and  solitary 
peak  just  across  this  pond  lifts  its  white  castellated  front  like  a 
venerable,  bearded  priest,  and  therefore  not  a  Romanist,  who  is 
beardless  as  well  as  crownless.  Off  in  that  southern  green  ocean 
is  a  green  cone,  as  perfect  as  a  rounded  pyramid — a  Teneriffe  cov- 
ered with  eternal  spring. 

To  the  north  the  hills,  more  distant,  shine  the  brightest  in  the 
vanishing  hues,  while  the  sky  above  and  along  the  northern  side,  . 
and  far  around  to  the  eastward,  is  still  aflame.  The  valley  itself 
thus  superbly  inclosed  is  a  sea  of  green,  all  its  white,  bare,  barren, 
disagreeable  features  being  lost  in  this  dying  hour  of  the  clay,  as 
all  the  bare,  barren,  disagreeable  features  of  a  life  so  often  fade 
and  disappear  in  its  setting.  As  we  drove  up  here,  weary  with  the  ■ 
hot  and  long  and  dusty  ride,  and  saw  this  white  embankment  and 
the  white  adobe  of  the  rancho  shining  in  the  sun,  with  a  half-dozen 
tall  green  willows  standing  guard  over  them,  I  was  glad  to  welcome 
it  as  my  home  for  the  night,  and  to  bless  its  name,  Bonaventura 
(good  coming),  as  prophetic  of  this  advent.  And  now,  as  this  love- 
ly flush  overspreads  all  the  heavens,  like  a  bloom  and  a  smile  on 
the  cheek  of  the  dying  beloved — I  have  seen  such,  have  not  you  ? 
— I  feel  yet  more  like  blessing  the  good  angel  that  has  brought  me 
thus  far  happily  over  the  burning  and  the  brilliant,  yet  danger- 
ous land.  How  that  rose  deepens,  and  rims  the  north  with  fire ! 
Where  did  you,  where  could  you  ever  see  a  grander  setting?  How 
vastly  ahead  of  the  tumultuous  and  fatal  sea !  Ah !  you  say, 
your  land  is  tumultuous  and  fatal  also.     Those  brown  fellows,  do 


368  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

they  not  weigh  you  in  their  balance  for  so  much  gold  ?  You  are 
pistolless,  and  they  know  it.  Perhaps  they  know  too  that  you  are 
a  Methodist  parson,  and  therefore  their  legitimate,  nay,  command- 
ed, prey.  "When  you  say  peace  and  safety,  then  sudden  destruc- 
tion cometh."  Well,  it  may  be  so,  and  so  may  it  be  on  shipboard  ; 
but  it  may  not  also.  They  have  treated  me  splendidly  so  far.  I 
will  believe  and  hope  unto  the  end. 

The  scarlet  is  becoming  crimson,  and  its  darker  edges  purple, 
the  sure  sign  of  approaching  dissolution. 

The  hundred  horses  that  have  just  been  up  here  drinking,  and 
then  out  in  the  chaparral  for  a  nip  at  the  new  grass,  are  wander- 
ing back  to  their  corral,  an  inclosure  of  upstanding  logs.  We  shall 
have  to  leave  our  log  and  outlook,  the  big  willow  standing  in  water 
just  at  my  feet,  the  green  landscape  fast  turning  gray,  and  the  sol- 
emn, affectionate,  parental  hills,  not  so  solemn  as  that  they  are  not 
happy-looking  also,  as  all  properly  solemn  persons  are,  and  hie  us 
to  the  inside  of  our  rancho. 

You  have  heard  much  about  ranchos.  Let  me  describe  this  one. 
It  is  a  very  small  pueblo,  or  a  tiny  corner  town,  like  the  larger 
towns,  except  there  is  in  it  no  Casa  Grande,  no  brick  or  mortar 
dwellings,  only  adobe.  But  our  rancho,  like  a  new  Western  town, 
aspires  to  a  future,  and  is  laid  out  with  more  care  than  most  of  such 
villages.  It  has  a  square,  or  plaza,  on  this  small  prairie,  three  sides 
already  surrounded  with  the  huts  that  may  give  way  sometime  to 
houses  of  grander  make  and  material.  But  here  the  law  of  the 
larger  houses  prevails.  As  a  log-cabin  is  a  Fifth  Avenue  house  in 
its  germ,  so  a  true  rancho  is  a  Spanish  castle  or  Mexican  casa 
grande  in  its  beginning.  First  logs,  then  wood,  then  marble  ;  first 
mud,  then  mortar,  then  marble.  This  rancho  is  exactly  after  the 
type  of  Barron's  and  Escandron's  great  houses  in  Mexico  ;  a  com- 
mon gate-way  for  horses,  carriages,  men,  a-nd  dogs  ;  in  this  case, 
pigs  are  added,  a  luxury  not  allowed  in  the  city.  A  door  opens  to 
rooms  on  either  side  of  the  gate-way,  porter's  there,  owner's  here ; 
then  comes  a  large  square  court,  with  rooms  opening  into  it.  The 
rear  side  of  this  court  is  a  stable,  and  another  court  behind  the 


CHEAP  LABOR.  369 

first  admits  you  to  the  rest  of  the  stables.  The  room  where  I  write 
opens  into  the  court  on  the  left.  After  passing  the  porter's  room 
into  the  court,  turn  to  the  left,  first  door ;  enter.  There  I  sit  at  a  ta- 
ble, with  a  tallow-dip  upon  it.  Three  single  cots  are  in  the  room,  and 
all  occupied  to-night ;  floor  of  hard  earth,  every  thing  comfortable. 
It  is  no  worse,  though  less  pretentious,  than  the  hotel  at  Ceral.  It 
is  not  so  disagreeable.  My  fellow  room-mates  are  a  Mexican  gen- 
tleman, and  a  German  youth  of  nineteen,  who  left  home  to  escape 
the  draft,  and  is  to  make  his  residence  in  Durango.  He  took  the 
precaution  to  arrange  at  Brownsville  to  become  an  American  citi- 
zen at  twenty-one.  So  Bismarck  and  Moltke  have  lost  him  for 
their  battle  of  Dorking.  The  Germans  do  not  like  to  "  train  "  any 
more  than  the  Americans  or  English  ;  "  'tis  not  their  trade."  They 
will  have  to  abandon  that  purpose,  and  trust,  as  do  their  kin,  to 
patriotism  to  defend  what  patriotism,  more  than  military  training, 
won. 

This  bright  boy  is  afflicted,  as  most  boys  and  men  are  here, 
with  a  tendency  toward  Cognac,  and  yet  complains  of  the  very 
ailments  Cognac  pre-eminently  induces.  When  will  the  good 
cause  of  total  abstinence  preserve  youth  and  men  from  this  dire 
curse  ? 

Let  us  run  over  the  log  of  the  day.  Out  and  off  at  four,  in  a 
magnificent  starlight,  as  clear  and  lustrous  as  a  Northern  coldest 
winter's  night,  and  as  warm  as  a  Northern  summer's.  It  chills  a 
little  in  the  riding,  and  a  bonfire  of  corn-stalks  at  the  first  posta  is 
not  disagreeable.  A  peon  has  kindled  the  fire,  and  stands  over  it 
in  his  white  cotton  trowsers  and  shirt,  with  his  zerape  round  his 
shoulders,  his  feet  bare  save  of  sandals  and  thongs.  He  is  on  a 
walk  from  Mattejuala,  to  work  on  a  road  for  three  reals  (thirty-sev- 
en and  a  half  cents)  a  clay.  Think  of  that,  ye  who  are  giving  Irish- 
men three  dollars,  and  sending  to  China  for  substitutes.  Here  are 
millions  of  industrious  and  ingenious  gentlemen — I  use  that  word 
in  both  senses — whom  you  can  get  for  a  dollar,  and  they  will  think 
themselves  wealthy.     Let  our  Samsons  find  China  at  their  doors. 

The  apple  and  quince  trees  hang  full  of  blossoms,  in  a  garden 


37o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

attached  to  this  rancho,  and  other  flowers  and  growing  grains  give 
proof  that  the  air  here,  if  chill,  is  never  cold. 

A  long,  long  posta  of  fourteen  leagues  (thirty-six  miles)  follows, 
over  a  wide  plain,  with  scarce  the  sign  of  habitation.  Five  leagues 
out  we  meet  a  private  coach  and  gentleman,  the  coach  covered  with 
cloth,  a  common  usage  here,  to  preserve  it  handsome  for  the  city 
paseo  ;  for  this  coach  contains  a  Congressman,  who  is  on  his  way  to 
the  city,  and  the  session.  Not  another  sign  of  life,  save  in  bush  and 
tree,  and  not  much  in  them,  till  the  twelfth  league  is  reached.  Some 
horses  grazing  in  the  bushes  look  wistfully  at  us,  envying,  doubtless, 
their  brothers  in  the  coach,  as  boys,  with  all  their  liberty,  envy  the 
burdened  man,  harnessed  and  dragging  his  weary  load  up  hill  and 
down  hill  till  he  drops  it,  or  drops  under  it,  dead.  A  rag  on  two 
high  bushes  marks  a  house  for  an  Indian  family,  and  relieves  the 
monotony  of  desolation.  The  sun  has  risen  with  a  burning  heat. 
Yesterday  we  shivered  in  a  shawl  till  near  noon  ;  to-day  we  swelt- 
er in  the  shade,  and  solicit  and  enjoy  the  breeze  that  blows  through 
the  coach,  albeit  much  dust  gets  mixed  up  with  it. 

The  vast  prairies  are  thinly  covered  with  shrubs  of  mesquite, 
and  even  the  Spanish  bayonet  gives  out,  and  dwindles  to  meagre 
proportions.  A  red-headed  cactus,  big-headed  too,  glows  by  the 
roadside,  sharp,  but  not  unlovely.  This  is  the  beginning  of  the 
chaparral  region,  whereof  we  heard  so  much  in  the  days  of  Gener- 
al Taylor,  and  which  Lowell  so  humorously  sets  forth  in  his  "  Bird 
of  Freedom  Sawin'."  It  is  hard-looking  stuff  to  march  through, 
being  short,  and  as  sharp  as  a  virago's  temper. 

How  is  it  that  these  tropic  plants  are  so  apt  to  be  prickly? 

Almost  every  bush  and  tree  you  meet  from  here  to  Mexico  is  of 

this  repellent  type.     Is  it  that  heat  in  the  blood  of  nature  is  like 

heat  in  the  blood  of  human  nature,  and  produces  the  noli-me-tan- 

gere  state  of  the  Scotch  thistle  and  Scotch  terrier?     These  palms, 

this  mesquite,  the  cactus,  all  are  thorny,  cross,  and  "let  me  alone." 

"  He  talked  about  delishis  froots,  but  then  it  was  a  wopper  all, 
The  holl  ont's  mud  and  prickly-pear,  with  here  an'  there  a  chapperal." 

Every  reader  of  these  pages  has  undoubtedly  heard  of  oases  in 


AN  INQUIRY  FOR  BREAKFAST.  37I 

the  desert.  You  did  not  hear  of  much  else  in  the  way  of  figures, 
if  your  juvenile  composition  life  was  passed  where  mine  was.  It 
was  a  cheap  and  favorite  illustration  of  sentimental  youth,  who 
called  every  "goody"  their  mothers  sent  them,  every  holiday  their 
teachers  gave  them,  every  love-sick  emotion  a  fair  face  bred  in 
them,  oases  in  the  desert  of  their  lives. 

Well,  what  they  fancied  I  experienced  in  reality.  I  had  tried 
every  way  to  get  over  the  long,  lazy  stretch  of  thirty-six  hot  and 
pulverized  miles  of  dismal  monotony.  We  drove  past  a  line  of 
wagons,  four  yoke  of  oxen  to  each,  and  the  wagon  itself,  about  two 
feet  wide  and  six  feet  high,  with  palm  -  leaf  matting  sides  and  a 
peaked  roof  like  a  house,  covered  also  with  matting,  the  most  curi- 
ous wagon  in  the  country  so  far.  The  wheels  were  bigger  than 
the  house  upon  them,  and  the  eight  oxen  seemed  intended  to  drag 
the  wheels. 

The  wind  blew  the  way  we  were  going,  and  so  we  added  their 
dust  to  our  own,  a  proof  that  we  do  not  always  get  out  of  other 
folks'  dust  by  getting  ahead  of  them.  In  fact,  we  not  unfrequently 
get  into  it  the  more  ;  for  they  blow  after  you  that  which  they  can 
not  leave  after  for  you. 

After  this  weary  eating  of  our  own  dust  for  so  hot  and  long  a  spell, 
and  even  of  that  of  those  whom  we  had  passed  in  the  slow  race, 
we  came  in  sight  of  a  stately  hacienda.  Its  white  walls  glistened 
like  a  fortress.  Its  silver  reduction  chimneys  towered,  cannon-like, 
above  its  gates.  Its  broad,  clean  plaza,  very  broad  and  very  clean, 
received  us.  The  driver  stopped  in  its  centre,  regardless  of  the 
hotel  door,  where  he  usually  pulled  up.  I  ask  where  breakfast  is 
to  be  got.  "Anywhere,"  he  says,  tossing  his  head  quite  indiffer- 
ently. I  push  round  to  a  gate-way,  and  ask  a  servant  the  same 
question.  He  points  to  a  closed  room.  In  it  I  see  through  the 
window  a  man  writing.  Not  much  sign  of  a  breakfast  there.  I 
push  my  inquiries  farther  with  like  cold  courtesy.  At  last,  bewil- 
dered, I  express  my  indignation  at  their  neglect.  A  young  man  in 
a  wide  gray  sombrero,  pistol  at  side,  white-appareled,  says  in  good 
English,  "  You  wish  for  a  breakfast,  sir  ?"     "  Yes,  sir,"  is  the  reply  ; 


372  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  one  man  who  can  speak  a  Christian  language." 
■•  ( '.<>  in  there,  sir,  and  I  will  meet  you  soon."  The  servants  are  im- 
mediately and  uncommonly  attentive.  I  enter  the  court  set  forth 
with  flowers  and  birds,  peacock,  clarine,  and  others  of  gay  apparel, 
enter  the  cool  dining-room,  vacant,  and  take  a  seat  at  the  first 
place,  which  happened  to  be  the  head  of  the  table.  Soon  the 
courtly  youth  entered  and  sat  down  to  eat.  Three  others  did,  and 
I  found,  instead  of  being  at  a  hotel  table,  I  was  a  guest  of  a  gentle- 
man, and  occupying  his  seat.  "  So  foolish  was  I  and  ignorant,  I 
was  as  a  beast  before"  him.  I  bethought  myself  of  him  who  with 
shame  had  to  take  a  lower  seat. 

But  the  young  gentleman  did  not  object,  and  so  the  seat  was 
kept.  I  found  he  was  educated  near  Alexandria,  could  talk  En- 
glish well,  was  full  of  interest  in  the  railroad  question,  as  every 
body  seems  to  be  here.  This  hacienda  was  his  uncle's,  whom  I 
had  met  seven  leagues  back,  on  his  way  to  Congress.  It  was  a 
cattle-raising  farm,  had  on  it  now  about  five  thousand  cattle  and 
forty  thousand  sheep  and  goats.  It  contained  thirty  square  leagues, 
over  seventy  square  miles,  had  on  it  silver  and  gold  mines,  but  lit- 
tle worked,  though  the  English  ex-consul  of  Mexico  had  lately  or- 
ganized a  company  for  their  development.  The  thick  silver  spoons 
of  the  table  were  from  the  mine ;  an  eighth  of  an  inch  the  spoon 
was  across  its  edge.  Had  I  not  had  the  fear  of  the  unjust  fame  of 
my  once  military  commander  before  my  eyes,  I  would  have  begged 
or  bought  one  of  those  specimens  of  the  product  of  this  farm. 

He  said  the  grazing  here  was  excellent  most  of  the  year ;  dry 
now  on  the  plains,  but  sweet  in  the  mountains.  The  cattle  were 
worth  ten  dollars  a  head  at  the  hacienda.  They  kept  three  hun- 
dred men  employed,  and  supported  fifteen  hundred  to  two  thou- 
sand people. 

He  gave  me  an  excellent  dinner,  for  which  he  refused  any  pay. 
He  was  pleased,  he  said,  to  see  Americans,  and  to  revive  his  En- 
glish. It  revived  very  easily.  I  commend  to  all  passers  on  this 
road  the  hospitalities  of  Senor  Gabriel  Bustamante,  of  the  hacien- 
da of  Solado. 


BEAUTY  OF   THE  HILLS.  373 

The  Spanish  bayonet  here  conies  to  the  front  again,  and  puts 
on  some  of  its  queerest  forms ;  and  nothing  can  look  queerer. 
Here  is  one  with  two  legs  coming  together  in  its  spiked  head,  like 
a  boy's  picture  of  a  scared  man,  with  his  hair  erect.  Another  has 
a  single  trunk  and  two  arms  stuck  out,  and  a  bushy  head  between, 
another  infantile  drawing.  Two  are  ogling  each  other,  their 
crooked  backs  crowned  by  projecting  barrels  of  spikes  that  look 
like  grinning  faces ;  and  here  are  two  others,  evidently  back 
to  back,  frowning  fiercely  out  of  the  same  wrathful  hair.  A  row 
of  them,  of  every  size,  shape,  and  position  of  crookedness,  looks 
like  Falstaff's  army,  with  tremendous  fierceness  in  their  weak 
though  plumed  heads.  One  was  so  perfect  a  statue,  that  I  could 
not  believe  it  to  be  any  thing  but  a  man  till  after  passing  it,  and 
hardly  then.  Their  grotesqueness  is  inimitable.  Hood's  queer 
pictures,  and  Thackeray's  and  Nast's  and  Cruikshank's,  are  all 
surpassed  by  the  common  doings  of  this  palma.  It  is  the  har- 
lequin of  Nature,  the  clown  and  the  court  fool  of  her  royal  palace 
here. 

The  hills  seemed  to  grow  greener,  and  the  fields  also,  perhaps 
because  of  the  refreshment  body  and  spirit  had  received,  perhaps  be- 
cause I  had  learned  that  it  was  their  intention  to  do  so  soon.  Still 
they  did  increase  in  verdure.  The  hills  especially  began  to  put  on 
velvet.  It  became  them  well,  but  no  better  than  their  previous, 
nakedness.  They  were  sculptured  so  admirably,  that  one  feels  as  if 
they  were  statues,  and  needed  no  wardrobe. 

"  The  sinful  painter  drapes  his  goddess  warm, 
Because  she  still  is  naked,  being  dressed ; 
The  god-like  sculptor  will  not  so  deform 

Beauty,  which  limbs  and  flesh  enough  invest." 

But  that  western  side,  so  daintily  robed  in  soft,  short  green,  does 
not  look  any  the  worse  for  the  apparel.  Indeed  it  is  an  improve- 
ment, for  it  fills  up  the  rough  clefts  and  rounds  out  the  contour  to 
a  perfect  symmetry.  You  never  saw  and  never  will  see  out  of  Mex- 
ico such  foldings  of  rock,  draperies  tight-fitting  yet  flowing,  cavities 
that  are  dimples,  and  swellings  that  are  the  rounding  out  of  youth- 


,74  or  A'   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

ful  cheeks  and  forms.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that  rocks  could 
be  so  lady-like  ;  soft,  yet  firm  ; 

"So  moving  delicate,  so  full  of  life."  » 

I  gazed,  and  envied  the  coming  circuit-riding  brethren  over  this  ha- 
cienda. We  pass  one  of  its  ranchos,  clean  and  comfortable  com- 
pared with  many  below,  the  men  gentlemanly  and  the  women  lady- 
like. They  came  and  shook  hands  with  the  driver ;  a  chatty  moth- 
er offering  him  cold  water,  and  all  showing  the  American  training 
of  the  young  haciendado,  and  preparing  the  way  for  the  chapel 
and  the  stationed  preacher. 

This  posta  of  twelve  long  leagues  is  pulled  across  through  heavy, 
dusty,  level  roads,  but  also  through  this  munificent  landscape  of 
green  and  silver,  and  we  come  where  we  began,  and  where,  at  near 
the  midnight  hour,  this  writing  is  being  finished,  in  the  peaceful 
rancho  of  Bonaventura. 

One  more  day  and  we  see  the  city  that  concludes  this  ocean  sec- 
tion, and  we  get  to  the  end,  practically,  of  Mexico.  May  the  rob- 
bers keep  still  aloof,  though  my  German  lad  sleeping  over  there 
says  they  are  plenty  and  bad  above,  and  tells  a  story  of  what  they 
lately  did,  to  put  me  in  bodily  fear,  shooting  a  woman,  and  tying 
two  men  to  a  tree.  He  is  armed,  and  thinks  that  is  his  protection. 
4Shall  I  get  out  my  tin-foil  sausage,  or  beg  a  revolver?  Nay.  I 
sing  my  talisman : 

"Jesus  protects,  my  fears  begone  ! 

What  can  the  Rock  of  Ages  move  ? 
Safe  in  His  aims  I  lay  me  down, 
His  everlasting  arms  of  love  !" 


OFF  BEFORE  DAY-BREAK.  375 


X. 

INTO  PORT. 

Sunrise. — Villa  de  Gomez  Firias. — A  lost  American  found. — Flowering  Palms. 
— An  unpleasant  Reminder. — A  charming  Park. — Agua  Nueva. — La  Encan- 
tada. — La  Angostura. — Battlemented  Mountains. — Buena  Vista. — The  Battle- 
field.— The  Result. — Why. — Saltillo. — Alameda. — Friends. 

The  four  days'  trip  across  the  wilderness  ocean  is  completed. 
The  pleasant  harbor  is  made  ;  the  perils  by  land  are  at  an  end. 
True,  four  days'  staging  yet  remain,  or  ere  the  country  is  left,  and 
the  robbers,  if  such  there  be.  And  as  a  vessel  has  been  wrecked 
in  sight  of  its  port,  and  coaches  have  been  robbed  within  two  miles 
of  Mexico,  there  are  plenty  of  chances  yet  to  experience  all  that  is 
threatened  and  feared.  But  the  chief  perils  are  past,  and  the  chief 
weariness  ;  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  none  that  follow  will  exceed  those 
that  have  gone  before.  Our  night  in  a  rancho  was  without  excite- 
ment. "  I  laid  me  down  in  peace  and  slept.  I  awaked,  for  Thou 
sustained  me." 

It  was  not  much  after  midnight  when  the  men  sleeping  on  the 
ground  at  the  door  of  our  biggin  began  to  bestir  themselves ;  at  a 
little  after  one  we  were  all  up,  and  at  two  off,  one  party  of  two  for 
the  South,  one  of  one  for  the  North.  The  coach  had  several  rent 
windows,  and  let  in  the  cold  air  full  freely.  But  as  the  air  was  not 
very  cold,  the  shawl  sufficed  for  a  protector,  and  I  tossed  and  slept 
till  morning  broke.  The  same  level  was  before  me,  shut  in  by  the 
same  hills.  The  light  grew  rosy  in  midheavens,  then  on  the  west- 
ern ridge,  and  then  the  blaze  boiled  and  steamed  up  the  east,  and 
all  was  done. 

It  was  a  long  pull  through  the  unchanging  fields  of  stunted  mes- 
quite  and  palm,  varied  by  equally  stunted  castor-oil  bean,  whose 

25 


376  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

very  leaves  and  tiny  yellow  flower  had  a  slimy  and  sickly  look. 
At  last  a  miserable  cluster  of  huts  appeared,  thirty-five  miles  from 
our  starting-place,  and  we  stopped  at  the  rancho  with  the  ornate  ti- 
tle of  Villa  de  Gomez  Firias.  This  was  once  a  favorite  resort  of 
the  Indians  for  its  water,  which  is  bad  enough,  and  shows  how  the 
region  round  about  must  suffer.  It  was  a  favorite  fighting -place 
also,  and  there  were  skulls  and  bones  enough  to  furnish  a  half-doz- 
en secret  college  societies,  not  only  with  their  hideous  symbols,  but 
with  a  secret  greater  than  any  of  the  boyish  ones  they  profess  to 
possess,  even  that  which  these  embody  and  express — the  mystery 
of  death. 

An  attempt  was  made  to  get  up  a  breakfast  here,  but  it  resulted 
in  a  fried  egg  and  frejollis,  all  the  intermediate  meats  being  absent. 
Nice  fresh  milk  made  the  place  of  the  absent  and  the  present  more 
than  good. 

A  colored  boy,  lounging  at  the  half-cent  grocery,  had  wandered 
hither  from  Texas.  He  had  got  on  the  Mexican  white  trowsers, 
sandals,  hat,  and  language,  but  his  pink  shirt  and  black  face  he 
had  not  changed.  He  is  working  here  for  "two  bits"  a  day,  liv- 
ing in  a  rancho  with  his  master.  He  said  he  preferred  the  dol- 
lar a  day  in  Texas,  but  why  he  does  not  go  and  get  it  he  says  not. 
His  name  is  William  Henry  Griffin.  It  was  a  pleasant  sight  and 
sound,  this  American  skin  and  tongue,  even  as  a  variety  to  the 
universal  brown.  He  was  brought  up  a  Methodist,  and  I  hope 
may  yet  help  these  poor  people  into  that  liberty,  though  I  fear  he 
is  not  a  shining  example  to-day  of  its  achievements,  whether  of 
faith  or  works. 

Our  wide  prairie,  extending  from  Mattejuala,  here  comes  to  an 
end.  Hills  gather  around  us,  and  grant  no  opening ;  they  must 
be  crossed.  The  level  has  been  not  less  than  fifty  leagues,  or  one 
hundred  and  thirty  miles.  The  hills  before  us  are  not  high,  but 
they  are  sufficient  to  conclude  that  feature  of  the  itinerary.  We 
ascend  a  hard,  handsome  road,  and  wind  into  a  round  valley  a 
thousand  or  two  feet  across,  and  shut  in  by  hills.  It  is  well  filled 
with  palm-trees  that  in  this  high  mountain  wall  are  getting  ahead 


HISTORIC  GROUND. 


377 


of  their  prairie  kindred  outside.  They  are  crowned  with  white 
blossoms.  It  is  one  of  the  strange  contraries  of  this  country  in 
nature,  as  in  men,  that  such  hideous-looking  creatures  as  cactuses 
and  palms  produce  such  marvelous  flowers  and  delightful  fruit. 
This  palm  bears  this  tree  of  white  blossoms  on  the  very  top  of  its 
head  ;  out  of  the  middle  of  these  green  spires,  like  bayonets,  rise 
the  tall  white  plumes,  some  of  them  two  feet  high,  and  half  as  tall 
as  the  trunk  that  supports  them.  Here,  too,  these  trees  are  uni- 
formly straight,  as  if,  like  country  people,  they  are  simple  and  stur- 
dy when  at  home,  but,  brought  into  city  society,  grow  odd  and  shod- 
dy. Another  slope  lets  us  into  another  park,  longer  and  wider,  but 
not  long  nor  wide.  The  driver  kindly  points  to  a  hole  in  the  side 
of  the  hill,  goes  through  the  motion  of  cutting  his  throat,  and  says 
that  here  the  coach  was  once  stopped,  three  men  taken  out  and 
robbed,  and  their  throats  cut,  and  they  thrown  into  that  hole. 

This  is  a  comforting  word.  I  ask  him  if  there  are  any  rob- 
bers here  now.  "  Oh  no  ;  farther  on,"  is  his  still  comforting  reply. 
"Farther  on"  I  saw  three  men  descending  a  long  slope.  The  hill 
looked  near,  and  yet  I  could  not  tell  whether  the  men  were  on  foot 
or  on  horseback.  They  drew  near,  and  I  saw  their  horses.  "These 
are  the  men,"  I  said.  Stage  stops.  They  part,  and  pass  on  each 
side  of  the  coach.  I  am  up  with  the  driver.  I  wait  to  hear  the 
cry  to  Zaccheus,  "  Come  down  !"  They  chat  with  the  driver,  laugh, 
and  drive  on.  So  goes  that  fear,  like  all  its  fellows.  Compadres 
of  the  driver,  they  could  not  pass  without  saluting  him. 

Another  harder  pull  yet,  and  a  more  beautiful  wild  orchard  of 
blossoming  palms,  and  we  enter  a  valley  of  great  beauty,  with 
mighty  mountains  guarding  its  eastern  side  and  entrance.  These 
are  the  loftiest  peaks  that  have  appeared  on  the  road  since  leaving 
the  green  hills  of  Mexico.  They  rise  close  to  the  pass,  and  leave 
only  a  narrow  path  into  the  valley.  They  appear  as  if  placed  here 
on  purpose  to  protect  the  land  from  invaders,  and  to  that  purpose 
they  were  put.  For  we  are  now  close  upon  the  historic  ground  of 
Buena  Vista.  These  southern  gates  are  the  rear-guard  of  the  land. 
The  real  battle  was  fought  some  miles  to  the  front,  across  this  val- 


57S  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

ley,  and  amidst  the  ravine  which  opens  out  of  it  at  almost  right  an- 
gles. But,  undoubtedly,  this  wall  was  chosen  because  of  its  partial 
protection  and  defense,  arfd,  had  the  front  been  maintained,  this 
would  have  afforded  a  strong  barrier. 

The  hacienda  of  Agua  Nueva  is  located  at  the  upper  end  of  this 
long  valley  of  La  Encantada.  It  is  on  a  dry  and  rolling  rise  of 
ground,  well  under  the  tall  hills.  Here  we  change  our  mules,  and 
start  on  the  last  posta  across  this  wide  sea,  whereon  we  have  been 
cruising  these  last  four  days.  This  is  the  most  exciting  of  all ;  for 
it  passes  over  from  end  to  end  the  track  of  that  famous  battle 
which  more  than  all  others  conquered  Mexico,  as  the  people  of  the 
United  States  believed,  and  showed  their  faith  by  their  works  in 
making  its  victor  President. 

The  mule-changing  Agua  Nueva  is  as  hot  a  spot  as  one  cares  to 
pause  on.  Yet  some  decaying  buildings,  one  of  which  is  especial- 
ly roomy,  give  us  momentary  shelter  from  the  storm  of  heat,  as 
well  as  the  sight  of  dirty  damsels  frying  their  perpetual  tortillas. 
A  bit  of  a  chapel,  dirty  as  any  of  its  worshipers,  stood  among  the 
huts  and  the  larger  semi-ruins  of  a  once  valuable  hacienda.  It 
was,  therefore,  especially  agreeable  to  see  the  mozo  harnessing  up 
his  eight  mules  for  the  pull  across  a  famous  field,  and  to  a  civil- 
ized town.  It  was  like  that  last  day  out  at  sea,  when  the  hills  of 
Neversink  are  almost  in  view,  and  you  know  that  to-morrow  morn- 
ing will  see  you  safe  in  the  dear  old  port. 

The  mules  whiz  out  of  the  dusty  and  decaying  plaza,  and  rush 
for  the  gorge  that  opens  straight  on  to  the  Gulf.  The  sweet  valley 
of  Encantada,  running  in  the  opposite  direction,  looks  fruitful  and 
green  as  we  glance  down  it,  just  before  the  high  rocky  walls  close 
us  in  and  close  it  out,  perhaps  forever,  to  these  eyes. 

These  walls  are  like  those  at  the  entrance  behind,  except  that 
the  latter  run  east  and  west,  and  these  run  north  and  south.  The 
last  is  the  more  usual  lay  of  the  hill  lands.  So  that  the  valley  of 
Buena  Vista  is  simply  in  the  same  direction  as  almost  every  valley 
we  have  passed  through  since  leaving  the  capital.  But  the  previ- 
ous valleys  have  been  from  five  to  twenty  miles  wide  ;  this  is  hard- 


HISTORIC  GROUND.  379 

ly  two.  It  is  well  named  La  Angostura  (The  Narrows).  Its  rock 
forms  are  very  remarkable,  especially  those  on  the  left,  or  toward 
the  west.  They  rise  in  huge  castellated  shapes,  not  unlike  the  ba- 
saltic columns  near  Velasquo.  The  range  is  five  hundred  to  a 
thousand  feet  high,  and  full  of  surprises  in  its  angles  no  less  than 
its  striated  surface.  The  opposite  side  is  higher,  and  more  after 
the  usual  form  of  mountains. 

Between  these  ranges  is  a  deep  dry  river-bed  that  has  cut  its 
crooked  way  through  the  valley,  and  scooped  out  a  path  twenty 
feet  below  the  original  level,  and  present  roadway  of  the  valley. 
This  barranca  chico,  as  they  would  call  it,  or  little  ravine,  is  not  an 
unusual  sight  in  the  country.  The  hill-sides  west  of  the  capital 
exhibit  some  of  great  depth.  But  this  one  differs  from  any  I  had 
previously  seen  in  that  it  is  exclusively  and  evidently  a  river-bed, 
and  probably  is  a  river  itself  in  the  rainy  season. 

On  the  eastern  side  of  the  narrow  valley  there  are  several  mo- 
raines, as  seemingly  artificial  as  is  the  river  barranca.  If  the  one 
is  scooped  out  by  violent  action  of  the  elements,  the  other  is  heap- 
ed up  by  like  violent  action.  They  are  as  high  as  the  bed  of  the 
river  is  deep.  They  extend  from  near  the  river's  edge  to  the  side 
of  the  tall  rock  -  hills.  How  they  were  cast  up  is  not  evident. 
There  are  no  glaciers  to  make  them,  as  in  the  Alpine  moraine. 
They  can  not  have  been  tossed  up  from  the  bed  of  the  river,  for 
they  have  no  connection  with  the  stream.  Riding  past  them,  I 
could  not  solve  their  cause.  Perhaps  some  scholarly  soldier,  who 
fought  on  them   and   under   them,  may   be   acquainted  with  their 


origin. 


They  had  a  use  that  day.  On  their  summits  were  placed  the 
American  cannon,  which  did  no  little  to  carry  the  field.  Perhaps 
it  was  on  one  of  them  that  the  famous  order  was  given,  "A  little 
more  grape,  Captain  Bragg,"  an  order  which  strengthened  the 
American  heart,  and  so  helped  gain  the  day. 

The  battle  was  fought  on  this  strange  field.  Along  that  dry 
gulf  General  Taylor's  troops  made  their  perilous  pause  ;  on  these 
seemingly  manufactured  hill-tops  they  planted  their  guns.     There 


j8o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

was  never  a  better  Thermopylae  than  this;  only  it  was  the  invad- 
ing troops  that  took  possession  of  it  and  held  it.  Santa  Anna 
made  the  attack.  Had  the  Persians  held  Thermopylae,  would  the 
Spartans  have  forced  them  ?     I  fear  not. 

Yet  the  Mexicans  ought  to  have  forced  these  gates.  They  could 
not  have  been  flanked;  they  should  not  have  been  routed.  But 
they  were  wearied  with  a  long  march,  and  the  Americans  held  the 
position.  Pluck  and  prowess,  and,  above  all,  Providence,  overthrew 
them.  "  Providence,"  for  God  was  in  this  war  more  than  most 
Northern  Americans  dreamed,  and  very  differently  from  what 
Southern  Americans  dreamed.  It  was  not  to  give  slavery  a 
stronger  hold  or  to  hasten  its  destruction  that  our  war  occurred 
with  Mexico.  It  was  to  open  that  country  to  the  Bible  and  the 
true  Church.  It  was  to  Christianize  Mexico,  not  to  free  or  enslave 
our  land,  that  this  war  arose.  Its  fruit,  planted  then,  has  been  grow- 
ing since,  daily  and  hourly,  and  will  grow  until  this  land  is  free 
from  the  curse  that  has  so  long  and  so  grievously  rested  upon  it.* 

*  General  Lew.  Wallace,  in  a  late  letter  to  a  reunion  of  the  Mexican  veterans, 
thus  describes  a  late  visit  to  the  field  of  Buena  Vista :  "I  have  ridden  over  the 
old  field  three  times  in  the  seven  years  last  past,  and  always  with  the  same 
feeling  of  wonder  at  the  audacity  of  the  chief  who,  with  his  four  thousand  five 
hundred,  abided  there  the  shock  of  the  Mexican  Napoleon's  twenty-two  thou- 
sand, and  of  admiration  at  the  pluck  and  endurance  of  the  few  who,  turned  and 
broken,  crushed  on  the  right  and  left,  and,  by  every  rule  of  scientific  battle,  whip- 
ped oftener  than  there  were  hours  of  the  day,  knew  it  not,  but  rallied  and  fought 
on,  the  infantry  now  covering  the  artillery,  the  artillery  now  defending  the  infan- 
try, the  cavalry  overwhelmed  by  legions  of  lancers,  and  union  of  effort  nowhere 
— fought  on,  and  at  last  wrung  victory  from  the  hands  of  assured  defeat. 

"The  field  is  but  little  changed.  The  road  to  La  Angostura  is  still  the  thor- 
oughfare across  it ;  winding  along  the  foot  of  the  hills  on  its  left,  and  looking 
down  into  the  fissures  and  yawning  gaps  which  made  the  valley  to  the  right  so 
impassable  even  to  skirmishers.  I  stopped  where  the  famous  battery  was  plant- 
ed across  the  road,  literally  our  last  hope,  and  tried  to  recall  the  feeling  of  the 
moment.  On  the  left  all  was  lost;  Clay,  M'Kee,  Hardin,  and  Yell  were  dead: 
where  all  were  brave,  but  one  regiment  was  standing  fast — the  only  one  which 
through  all  the  weary  hours  of  the  changing  struggle  had  not  turned  its  face 
from  the  enemy — I  mean  the  Third  Indiana.     Against  the  battery  so  supported, 


' 


!§§MI, 


«sk 


/'I 


ANOTHER'S   VISIT  TO    THE  FIELD.  383 

This  victory  gave  General  Taylor,  the  command  of  the  whole 
country  we  have  been  traversing  the  last  four  clays.  In  fact,  it 
gave  him  control  up  to  the  capital.  Had  it  not  been  for  political 
fears  lest  his  great  success,  especially  if  he  added  to  it  the  capture 
of  the  city,  would  insure  him  the  Presidency,  he  would  have  un- 
doubtedly been  ordered  to  advance.  As  it  was,  his  troops  were 
taken  from  him,  and  transferred  to  General  Scott.  Among  them 
was  a  youth  who  was  lowest  on  the  roster,  Lieutenant  Grant.  Gen- 
eral Taylor  was  left  idle,  while  a  new  fighting  to  the  same  city 
level  had  to  be  bloodily  carried  up  Cerro  Gordo  and  like  terrible 
heights,  simply  to  divide  the  honors  between  two  generals  of  the 
same  party,  and  so  prevent  the  Presidential  success  of  either.  The 
Government  squandered  millions  of  dollars  and  many  lives  for  pure- 
ly political  reasons.  Mexico  was  actually  conquered  at  the  battle 
of  Buena  Vista.  Had  it  been  vigorously  followed,  a  month  would 
have  seen  Zachary  Taylor  at  Chapultepec. 

along  the  narrow  pass,  surged  a  chosen  column  of  Mexicans.  History  tells  how 
they  were  rolled  back.  In  all  the  annals  of  war  nothing  more  gallant  on  both 
sides,  scarcely  any  thing  more  bloody  and  terrible.  From  the  position  of  the 
Third  Indiana  at  that  moment,  away  over  the  plateau,  quite  to  the  mountain, 
reaches  a  breastwork  not  there  when  our  comrades  fought,  but  signalizing  an  in- 
cident in  the  war  of  the  Mexicans  against  the  French. 

"The  last  time  I  was  on  the  sacred  ground,  I  saw  a  'greaser'  working  with  a 
hoe  on  the  side  of  a  hill  by  which  we  identify  the  position  of  the  Third  Indiana 
at  the  turning  -  point  of  the  battle.  My  curiosity  was  excited.  I  rode  to  see 
what  he  could  be  doing.  A  moment  ago  I  said  the  field  was  unchanged.  I  was 
mistaken.  The  man  was  conducting  a  little  stream  of  water  from  the  mountain 
miles  away  to  irrigate  a  wheat-field  below,  in  the  mouth  of  the  very  ravine  down 
which  the  regiments  of  Hardin,  Yell,  and  M'Kee  had  retreated,  seeking  the  cov- 
er of  Washington's  battery — the  very  ravine  where  the  blood  was  thickest  on 
the  rocks  at  the  end  of  the  fight.  I  looked  down  upon  the  velvet  green  of  the 
growing  stalks,  darker  from  the  precious  enrichment  the  soil  had  that  day  re- 
ceived, and  then  at  the  stream  of  water  which  came  creeping  after  the  man,  like 
a  living  plaything.  T  looked  at  them,  and  understanding  the  moral  of  the  inci- 
dent, thanked  God  for  the  law  that  makes  war  impossible  as  a  lasting  condition, 
however  it  inspires  the  loves  and  memories  of  comradeship,  and  teaches  that 
each  succeeding  generation  of  freemen  are  as  brave  as  their  ancestors." 


j84  OCR   M. XT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

The  hacienda  from  which  this  battle  takes  its  name  is  north  of 
the  field,  and  some  two  or  three  miles  away.  It  is  a  pretty,  peace- 
ful spot,  its  pinkish-white  houses  girting  its  plaza  showing  that  it  is 
well  kept  up.  The  fields  about  it  are  green  with  produce  for  the 
city  of  Saltillo,  which  is  six  miles  still  farther  northward.  A  pul- 
verized road,  broad  and  usually  level,  with  only  slight  rises,  winds 
its  way  through  the  valley,  which  widens  here  to  the  usual  park-like 
width,  five  to  eight  miles.  There  is  no  sight  of  Saltillo.  Looking 
for  it,  and  hastening  after  it,  as  I  have  been  doing  now  this  many 
days,  the  end,  feelingly,  of  the  long  and  hazardous  journey  (for  no 
fears  affect  one  beyond  this  city),  still  it  hides  itself  from  the  eye. 
Where  can  it  be  ?  The  mountains  throw  themselves  out  before  us 
as  a  vast  amphitheatre,  whose  diameter  traverses  a  score  of  miles. 
But  where  can  the  city  be?  At  our  feet?  We  drive  along  the 
same  dusty  and  level  plain,  and  suddenly  look  down,  and  lo !  Sal- 
tillo. 

There  is  a  lower  level  out  of  which  that  circle  of  the  mountains 
swings,  a  hundred  feet  at  least  below  the  Buena  Vista  plain.  At 
its  upper  or  southern  edge,  which  is  as  marked  as  if  cut  like  a 
cheese  against  the  higher  plateau,  crowds  this  Northern  town.  A 
glimpse  of  it,  and  the  diligence  plunges  down  a  very  rough  and 
noisy  hill,  leaps  past  open  houses,  whose  brown  occupants  hasten 
to  the  doors  to  see  the  infrequent  and  much-welcomed  coach,  and 
with  whirl  and  dash  and  snap  of  whip  flings  itself  around  corners, 
through  courts,  and  comes  up,  with  its  crunch,  at  the  hotel  door. 

The  town  is  enjoying  its  siesta ;  our  noise  awakens  it.  It 
drowsily  peeps  from  veranda  and  hut  upon  our  disturbing  mules 
and  coach,  and  then  folds  its  hands  to  sleep.  It  is  the  hottest 
hour  of  the  day,  three  in  the  afternoon.  How  presumptuous  for 
the  coachman  to  rush  in  upon  it  so  early !  He  would  not  have 
done  it  but  for  the  promise  of  an  extra  peso  if  he  made  an  extra 
hour  ;  for  I  could  thereby  "  do  "  the  town  before  dark. 

It  was  done,  and  the  cool  arcade  of  a  pretty  hotel  welcomed  me. 
Bath  and  clean  linen,  the  first  I  had  dared  to  assume  since  leaving 
San  Luis  Potosi,  put  me  in  good  outward  condition,  and  so,  in  a 


A   STRANGE   MARRIAGE  EXPERIENCE.  385 

degree,  good  inward  also.  A  big  room  opened  on  a  broad  shaded 
patio.  Singing  birds  and  birds  of  rich  plumage  made  it  all  the 
more  home-like.  It  seemed  more  beautiful,  perhaps,  than  it  was ; 
for  the  contrast  with  ranchos  and  horrid  Ceral  and  dirty  Chalcos 
and  wild  half-desert  living  was  as  sudden  as  if  it  had  been  a  new 
revelation  from  Heaven. 

Especially  was  it  nearer  home.  One  could  almost  fancy  that  he 
was  home  ;  for  only  one  day  separated  him  from  Monterey,  and 
that  was  the  next  town  to  Matamoras,  and  that  adjoined  the  United 
States.  It  was  so  near,  it  seemed  as  if  the  dome  of  Washington 
must  appear  over  that  farther  rise  of  inclosing  mountains.  But  it 
took  long  and  wearisome  clays  to  bring  that  dome  into  view. 

The  clean  skin  and  clean  shirt  being  secured,  the  town  is  sub- 
jected to  inspection.  It  is  soon  done.  A  half-dozen  streets  run 
east  and  west  along  the  upper  edge  of  the  plain  ;  a  dozen  or  two, 
narrow  and  dirty,  cross  them.  One-story  white  and  tinted  adobe 
dwellings  line  these  streets.  There  are  no  sidewalks.  The  plaza 
is  without  ornament.  The  cathedral  is  cheap  and  frowzy.  Every 
thing  is  asleep. 

There  is  one  beauty — the  alameda.  This  lies  at  the  foot  of  the 
street,  toward  the  west ;  it  is  the  prettiest  I  had  seen  in  all  the 
country.  It  is  lined  all  around  with  a  hedge  of  rose-bushes,  then 
in  bloom,  perhaps  always  so  ;  its  paths  are  richly  shaded.  It  lies 
close  to  the  base  of  high  hills,  and  a  river  babbles  along  its  edge, 
which  invades  its  own  borders,  with  its  minor  streams  of  irrigation. 
Outside,  the  brook  gets  up  a  sort  of  independent  alameda,  in  an 
open  pasture,  where  it  gallops  among  apple  and  olive  trees  at  its 
own  wild  will. 

I  find  in  this  city  two  gentlemen  of  my  own  language.  One,  then 
far  gone  in  consumption,  has  since  passed  away.  He  had  a  strange 
marriage  experience.  He  had  remained  unmarried  till  he  had 
reached  the  ripe  age  of  thirty-five  or  forty.  His  master  left  him  in 
charge,  and  went  to  Europe.  A  rancho  beauty  came  to  town,  kill- 
ing lovely.  This  sober,  sturdy,  and  mature  New  Englander  fell 
desperately  in  love  with  this  wild  slip  of  the  pueblos.      He  married 


-S6  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

her.  She  appropriated  all  the  diamonds,  silver,  and  whatever  else 
she  could  beguile  her  becrazed  husband  into  bestowing.  She  final- 
ly left  with  a  French  gentleman.  She  was  captured,  brought  back, 
and  cast  into  jail.  Getting  released,  she  went  as  far  as  Indiana, 
got  a  divorce  in  that  State,  and  married  the  lawyer  who  obtained 
it.  Never  a  word  against  the  wayward  wife  fell  from  the  sick  man's 
lips.  He  loved  her  still.  Many  waters  could  not  quench,  nor 
floods  drown  this  flame  of,  in  him,  purest  and  most  unselfish  affec- 
tion. She  had  killed  him,  but  he  died  without  saying  a  word 
against  the  rancho  beauty  that  had  captured  him  whole.  We  read 
of  broken  hearts,  and  usually  they  are  supposed  to  be  of  the  femi- 
nine gender.  Here  was  one  of  the  opposite  sort — a  sober,  sad, 
modest  gentleman,  worn  to  the  grave  by  love  and  sorrow. 

Another  gentleman  invited  the  sick  friend  and  myself  to  dinner. 
He  was  an  Irishman,  but  had  lived  from  a  child  with  Jerry  Warri- 
ner,  the  famous  caterer  in  Springfield,  Massachusetts,  thirty  years 
ago.  He  came  out  here,  and  amassed  a  competence,  if  not  a  for- 
tune. His  children  are  all  about  him,  and  he  is  rejoicing  in  a 
green  old  age.  It  was  a  delightful  evening  that  I  spent  in  his 
cheery  parlors,  among  his  pleasant  family  and  over  his  table,  that 
had  flavors  in  its  dishes  of  the  old  tavern  in  Springfield. 

The  change  from  the  wilderness  wanderings  was  more  marked  by 
these  additions.  It  was  not  only  reaching  land,  but  home.  May 
every  like  traverser  of  that  dreary  track  find  like  refreshment  at 
these  hospitable  quarters. 


A  NOTICEABLE   CHANGE, 


387 


XI. 

MONTE  RE  Y. 

Songs  in  the  Night.  —  Open  Fields  near  Saltillo. —  Effect  of  Irrigation. — 
"The  rosy-fingered  Dawn."  —  Gathering  together  of  the  Mountains. —  San 
Gregario. — A  Thousand-feet  Fall.  —  Rinconada.  —  Wonders  of  Flowers. — 
A  Hole  through  a  Mountain. —  The  Saddle  Mountain. — The  Mitre. — Santa 
Caterina.  —  A  Tin  God.  —  A  familiar  Color.  —  St.  Peter.  —  No  Bathing  after 
Midday. — The  Smallness  of  Mexican  Heads. — Miss  Rankin's  Work. — Strife 
between  Brethren. — Its  Benefits. — The  two  Dogs. — The  Eye  of  the  Town. — 
Revolutions. 

Though  near  the  midnight  hour,  the  birds  in  the  court  are  sing- 
ing as  gayly  as  at  dawn.  Hear  that  clarine  !  deep  and  long  and 
swelling  and  falling  are  its  notes,  with  a  true  operatic  touch.  How 
that  madcap  mocking-bird  is  caroling  !  They  are  making  a  night 
of  it,  truly.  The  clay  is  too  hot  for  their  work,  as  it  is  for  that  of 
men.  But,  unlike  their  bigger  and  featherless  biped  kindred,  they 
give  songs  in  the  night.  Only  that  watchman's  whistle  replies  to 
their  softer  and  richer  note,  and  a  hallooing  somebody,  who  bellows 
as  if  mad  or  afraid,  or  both.  What  is  his  office  ?  To  call  a  revo- 
lution ?     The  air  is  full  of  that  cry. 

The  roomy  court  of  this  hotel  is  unusually  luxuriant.  The  ar- 
cade inclosing  it  is  spacious  ;  flowers,  as  fragrant  as  the  birds  are 
brilliant,  fill  the  air  with  odors.  Every  thing  is  for  coolness  and 
rest.     Rest  with  the  pen  is  a  goodly  rest :  let  us  take  it. 

It  was  at  day-break  this  morning  that  the  coach  rattled  out  of 
Saltillo  with  two  sleepy  passengers,  a  German  and  myself.  The 
face  of  the  country  in  that  warm  gray  dawn  looked  changed  from 
all  behind  it.  America  had  touched  it  with  her  wand.  The  huge, 
high  walls  of  the  haciendas  gave  way  to  no  fences  at  all.  The 
land  lay  utterly  open.     Not  the  least  impediment  to  your  going 


,88  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

everywhere,  except  such  as  the  irrigating  water  afforded.  It  was 
well  watered  and  very  green,  running  up  under  the  lee  of  the  dark 
mountains,  and  spreading  out  in  long  levels  of  fertility.  Where 
this  water  had  not  come,  the  soil  lay  white  and  dead,  a  corpse-like 
look.     Where  it  came,  it  was  overflowing  with  life. 

The  plains  are  about  six  miles  across  and  ten  miles  in  length, 
in  sight  of  the  white  city  at  their  south-western  terminus. 

A  single  rosy  ray  streamed  up  from  behind  the  easternmost 
mountain  like  a  finger,  an  index  of  the  coming  sun.  Homer's  fig- 
ure, which  Milton  appropriates,  as  he  does  so  much  of  Homer, 

"The  rosy-fingered  dawn  appears," 

was  suggested  to  my  mind  by  this  unusual  spectacle.  Anon  a  sec- 
ond broad  ray  joined  its  fellow,  two  fingers  uplifted  by  the  coming 
sun.  The  rose  soon  changed  to  yellow,  shone  through  the  open- 
ings of  the  hills,  and  sent  its  lustre  across  the  lovely  plain  and 
upon  the  high  and  gracefully  moulded  mountains  that  shut  that  in. 
The  richer  line  of  Tennyson  expressed  the  glory  that  followed  : 

"  The  rosy  thrones  of  dawn." 

I  looked  and  was  glad,  for  I  bethought  me,  that  coming  light  has 
already  risen  on  my  own  land.  It  is  not  two  hundred  miles  to  the 
border.  This  rose  and  gold  must  have  just  illumined  that  fair 
clime.  I  prayed  the  prayer  of  Alexander  Smith  for  this  magnifi- 
cent land  : 

"Come  forth,  O  Light,  from  out  the  breaking  East, 
And  with  thy  splendor  pierce  the  heathen  dark, 
And  morning  make  on  continent  and  isle, 
That  Thou  may'st  reap  the  harvest  of  Thy  tears, 
Oh  holy  One  that  hung  upon  the  tree  !" 

The  road  is  hard  and  smooth.  Crosses  appear  quite  frequently, 
and  remind  us  of  that  long  disease  of  the  land,  the  violent  death 
of  its  people,  while  dead  mules  and  asses  alike  remind  us  of  the 
late  disease  of  its  horses  and  their  kin. 

The  mountains  gather  close  to  us.     The  open  meadows  disap- 


A   DOWNWARD  PLUNGE.  389 

pear,  and  the  pass  assumes  its  proper  place  and  shape.  Three 
miles  these  bases  stand  apart,  perhaps  more,  perhaps  less ;  for 
distances  are  deceptive  in  this  clear  air.  The  walls  rise  a  thou- 
sand feet  and  over,  and,  being  so  close  to  us,  they  seem  five  times 
that  height.  They  are  black  and  herbless  in  the  upper  portions, 
but  of  soft  outline  that  makes  verdure  no  necessity.  So  we  canter 
slowly,  comforting  our  still  sick  mules,  to  the  first  posta,  San  Gre- 
gario.  Leaving  here,  we  begin  to  descend  rapidly.  Soon  a  point 
is  touched  from  which  you  gaze  downward  at  least  a  thousand  feet, 
and  into  which  bottom  you  could  easily  roll — all  but  the  easily — 
by  just  stepping  to  the  side  of  the  road  and  putting  yourself  into 
motion  at  the  head  of  the  gulf.  Passengers  usually  walk,  going 
up  or  down  this  plunge.  Our  light  load  lets  us  ride.  The  mount- 
ains roll  up  on  either  side  in  mighty  convolutions,  capping  their 
folds  with  striated  columns,  now  parallel,  now  perpendicular.  They 
'are  not  altogether  lava -like  here,  but  their  black  robe  begins  to 
glow  with  green.  The  heat  and  some  moisture  of  the  hills  bring 
out  this  life. 

Down  we  fly  into  this  defile,  which  grows  more  grand  with  every 
descent,  until  we  reach  the  bottom  of  this  plunge,  and  lift  our  de- 
lighted eyes  upon  the  walls  inclosing  us.  Getting  between  the 
banks  of  Niagara,  if  the  bed  were  dry,  would  not  be  a  dull  sensa- 
tion. How  much  more  this  gorge,  five  times  at  least  the  height  of 
that  ravine,  fashioned  into  artistic  shapes,  trimmed  with  gay  appar- 
el, and  crowned  with  level  strata  of  piled-up  limestone,  mother  of 
marble. 

This  long  slide — Yankee  boys  would  call  it  "  coast  " — comes  to 
a  halt  at  the  hacienda  of  Rinconada,  or  Cornertown,  an  angle  made 
by  the  mountains,  which  is  level  enough  to  bear  culture.  It  is  "  a 
sweet,  pretty"  spot  of  fifty  acres,  poco  mas  y  menos,  with  tall  alamo- 
trees,  not  unlike  a  linden,  shading  its  innermost  and  watermost 
corner  from  the  intense  glare  pouring  into  this  horn  from  that 
tropical  sun.  The  breeze  blows  brisk,  and  tempers  the  growing 
heat  with  its  warm  March  blasts. 

A  slight  rise  for  two  leagues  gives  us  an  opportunity  to  admire, 


39o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

and,  in  a  few  instances,  to  pluck,  the  brilliant  flowers  that  line  our 
path.  Not  much  chance  for  the  latter  is  afforded.  Once  too 
much,  I  found,  was  my  getting  out  of  the  coach  a  third  time,  to 
gather,  if  possible,  the  root  of  a  superb  crimson  cactus.  The 
driver  touched  up  his  horses  as  I  touched  the  ground,  and  seemed 
purposed  to  push  on  without  me,  although  the  ascent  was  then 
quite  marked.  But  it  is  a  law  of  these  diligences  never  to  stop  for 
any  thing,  a  law  I  respect,  and  have  no  desire  to  see  abrogated  or 
weakened.  Yet  these  gorgeous  blossoms  were  a  temptation.  Es- 
pecially so  were  two  cactuses,  one  a  round  ball,  with  bits  of  red 
rlowers,  and  one  a  group  of  small  and  hidden  balls,  supporting 
each  a  large  crimson  cup.  How  can  these  terribly  sharp  balls  and 
tubes,  so  full  of  spines,  burst  forth  into  colors  so  delicate  and  deep? 
For  a  flower  is  a  fruit  of  these  inner  natures.  Cut  these  bulbs,  and 
you  find  them  full  of  soft,  firm,  fine  fibre,  as  of  lace  meshed  in 
cream.  They  show  that  the  soul  of  them  is  sweet.  So  some 
rough  and  thorny  exteriors  that  are  human,  hide  tenderest  and 
grandest  spirits.  So,  especially,  does  the  thorny  and  self-deny- 
ing life  of  faith  and  patience  and  sorrow  burst  forth  into  the  blos- 
soming of  heaven.  Other  flowers  abound  of  less  grand  style  and 
color :  a  daisy  of  the  tint  of  cream  ;  another  of  yellow,  streaked 
with  brown  ;  white  daisies,  larger  and  softer  than  our  Northern 
skies  produce  ;  these  stand  among  their  cactus  superiors  in  meek 
yet  sweet  humility. 

The  gorge  grows  in  grandeur  as  you  pass  over  this  last  ascend- 
ing point,  and  begin  a  descent  often  leagues,  almost  thirty  miles,  to 
the  city  at  its  base.  The  sides  of  the  cliffs  are  equally  fantastic, 
now  hollowed  in,  now  rounded  out,  now  capped  with  horizontal  pil- 
lars, now  buttressed  with  a  bluff  running  a  half  mile  out  of  its  side, 
an  enormous  roll,  but  nothing  to  the  wall  it  seems  to  support. 

Soon,  on  the  left,  the  steady  outline  is  broken  into  three  separate 
ranges.  The  first  is  short,  not  over  a  mile  or  two  in  length.  It 
starts  up  sheer  and  unbroken  from  the  bottom,  a  scarped  wall  of 
silver  gray.  On  its  centre  and  top  two  caps  are  set,  of  the  same 
stratified  rock,  whiter  than  the  bases  below,  of  enormous  size  and 


"A   HOLE  IN  THE    WALL:'  39I 

regular  shape.  They  look  like  guardsmens'  hats,  and  well  become 
these  watchers  of  the  vale. 

The  next  range  is  not  less  than  ten  miles  long,  and  is  more 
varied  in  outline,  though  below,  at  the  city,  it  looks  so  like  a  mitre 
that  it  bears  that  name.  Far  up  its  side,  close  at  the  edge  of  that 
same  stratified  summit,  a  bit  of  a  hole  lets  you  into  a  marvelous 
cave.  But  how  to  get  to  the  hole  is  the  question.  It  looks  impos- 
sible, but  a  gentleman  riding  with  me  says  he  has  done  it.  A  safe 
but  very  steep  path  leads  up  that  sheer,  swart,  hot  wall.  It  was 
built  by  an  American,  who  fell  a  martyr  to  the  revolution  a  year 
ago. 

The  last  range  is  before  us,  and  back  of  the  city,  which  lies  hid- 
den at  its  base,  a  huge  piece,  seemingly  cut  out  of  its  ridge,  making 


SADDLE   MOUNTAIN. 


it  look  like  a  Mexican  saddle,  and  hence  its  name  of  Saddle  Mount- 
ain. It  is  a  quaint  feature  in  the  scene.  More  quaint,  however, 
is  a  hole  on  the  opposite  side.  Near  to  the  top  of  that  ridge  you 
see  a  hole  clean  through  the  face  of  the  rock,  opening  to  the  light 
opposite.  It  looks  from  the  valley  as  of  the  size  of  a  hat.  It  is 
really  large  enough  to  let  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  their  cart  go  through, 
though  I  have  never  heard  of  that  being  attempted.      Whoever 

should  attempt  it  would  "  hitch  his  wagon  to  a  star,"  as  Emerson 

26 


392  OCR   M- XT- DOOR   NEIGHBOR. 

advises ;  Charles's  Wain,  of  course,  is  already  thus  hitched.  My 
fellow-traveler  says  you  can  go  over  all  the  world  and  never  see  a 
sight  like  that,  a  hole  opened  through  a  mountain  cliff.  It  is  a 
hundred  feet  below  the  summit ;  but  it  is  easily  attained,  if  one 
seeks  adventures.  The  hills  on  that  side,  in  their  ravines,  show 
how  intense  is  the  heat ;  for  those  hollows,  even  up  to  their  sum- 
mits, are  filled  with  green  shrubs,  and  grasses,  and  trees.  Where 
snow  would  lie  in  Switzerland,  flowers  and  grasses  of  tropical  qual- 
ity grow  here. 

Santa  Caterina  is  the  name  of  the  village  at  the  base  of  this  true 
"hole  in  the  wall."  In  a  shop  in  this  rancho  I  find  on  the  coun- 
ter a  picture  of  the  Virgin,  framed  in  tin,  for  sale,  tin  and  all,  for 
two  reals.  The  engraving  puts  a  crown  on  her  head,  and  in  its 
corner  drawings  make  her  alike  crowned,  and  men  her  worship- 
ers. I  tried  my  broken  Spanish  on  the  vender,  saying,  "  Non 
Maria,  pero  Jesu  Cristo  solo"  (Not  Mary,  but  Jesus  Christ  only). 
This  picture  is  one  of  many  proofs  of  the  reigning  idolatry  ;  for 
idolatry  complete  it  is  ;  none  more  so  in  India.  The  very  term, 
which  this  picture  recalls,  "Queen  of  Heaven,"  was  the  exact 
ascription  given  to  Astarte,  the  wickedest  goddess  of  history,  lust- 
ful as  Venus,  wrathful  as  Moloch  —  that  bottom  of  hell,  a  fallen 
woman.  Yet  her  boastful  title  is  given  to  the  sweet,  humble,  mod- 
est "  Mother  of  our  Lord."  How  the  mountain  views  disappear 
before  the  condition  of  this  people,  revealed  in  that  twenty-five- 
cent  goddess.  These  also  shall  perish ;  they  shall  not  endure  ; 
they  shall  be  wrapped  together  as  a  scroll,  and  melt  away  as  these 
hills  have  here  once  melted  and  stiffened.  But  of  the  poor  souls 
that  perish  here  for  the  lack  of  knowledge,  it  is  said,  they  shall  nev- 
er be  destroyed — dead,  lost,  perhaps,  but  never  destroyed.  We 
should  forget  all  sight  of  earth  in  the  passion  for  the  souls  of 
men. 

Here  is  one  at  this  rancho  door,  whom  I  met  with  at  San  Grego- 
rio,  that  I  have  hopes  may  yet  be  brought  to  serve  this  people.  He 
is  quite  black,  was  once  a  slave  in  Kentucky,  who  fought  in  our 
war  as  a  soldier,  was  transferred  to  the  border  at  its  close,  and  de- 


A   BLACK  "SMITH." 


393 


sertecl  to  Mexico.  He  is  very  intelligent  and  comely ;  has  good 
employment  by  the  diligence  company  in  shoeing  their  mules,  for 
which  he  gets  sixty  dollars  a  month.  He  wears  the  wide  sombrero, 
silver-mounted  and  tasteful.  He  is  quite  a  favorite  here,  and  was 
promised  a  captaincy  in  the  last  revolt  if  he  would  serve  Diaz. 
He  was  born  near  Lexington,  Kentucky,  and  his  name  is  Charles 
Smith.  His  parents  were  Methodists,  and  he  ought  to  be.  He 
can  not  read  or  write,  because  of  his  early  condition.  How  little 
his  master  thought  that  boy  would  be  riding  about  in  a  sombrero, 
silver-banded  and  bound  and  gayly  set  off,  the  pet  of  the  owners 
and  passengers  of  the  route. 


BISHOP'S   RESIDENCE,  MONTEREY. 

We  now  pass  along  the  side  of  the  Valley  of  St.  Peter,  a  very 
handsome  wooded  and  meadowed  plain  under  the  western  mount- 
ains, among  the  wild  chaparral,  the  terrible  mixture  of  thorn-bushes 
of  every  sort,  through  which  our  soldiers  climbed  to  the  top  of  this 
low  hill  on  our  left,  where  they  stormed  the  bishop's  residence  on 
that  hill,  which  is  now  a  ruin.  In  this  charge,  Lieut.  Grant  got  his 
first  promotion,  but  declined  it,  because  another  was  also  promoted, 
saying,  "  If  Lieut. deserves  promotion,  I  do  not." 


394  OCA   XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

The  road  still  glides  downward,  amidst  blossoming  orchards,  tall 
and  fragrant,  gardens  and  flower-beds,  into  the  city,  down  its  still 
slight  incline  to  the  plaza  and  my  pleasant  quarters. 

The  heat  is  intense.  It  is  in  a  tunnel  of  mountains  that  draws 
all  the  rays.  But  the  largest  and  coolest  of  the  hotels  of  the  dili- 
gence company  refreshes  me.  This  hotel  concludes  our  sojourn- 
ings  of  such  sort ;  for  only  ranchos  await  us  nightly  between  this 
city  and  the  Gulf.  Its  wide  porches,  and  flower-full  patio,  and 
plumed  and  singing  birds  surpass  Saltillo's  and  all  before. 

It  is  Saturday,  and  the  last  Sunday  in  the  country  is  to  be  passed 
here.  A  bath  seems  the  first  necessary  preparative.  So  I  go  to 
the  shop  of  my  German  co-traveler,  a  sombrero  manufacturer,  and 
get  as  near  his  chamber  as  a  huge  clog  permits.  He  tells  me,  what 
I  tell  you,  never  to  take  a  bath  in  this  country  in  the  afternoon. 
A  gentleman,  he  says,  came  up  from  Matamoras,  took  a  bath  after 
his  arrival,  and  died  before  the  next  morning.  I  content  myself 
with  a  hand-bath,  which  is  as  good  as  the  more  formal  ablutions. 

This  same  gentleman  gives  me  another  bit  of  information  more 
in  the  line  of  his  business,  yet  having  an  inference  wider  even  than 
a  sombrero  brim.  He  says  the  Mexican  heads  average  six  and 
three-quarters  and  six  and  seven-eighths,  hatters'  sizes  ;  Americans 
average  seven  and  an  eighth.  I  had  noticed  the  difficulty  of  get- 
ting hats,  in  the  capital  and  elsewhere,  large  enough  for  the  heads 
of  American  travelers,  and  called  his  attention  to  it.  This  fact  was 
given  in  reply.  That  is  the  size  of  the  heads  of  our  boys  at  twelve. 
Does  it  mark,  then,  a  type  of  civilization,  and  their  relation  to  the 
bigger-headed  and  bigger-brained  races  of  the  Teuton  type? 

I  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  in  hunting  up  some  of  these  big- 
headed  brothers.  The  first  I  found  was  as  small  of  head  and  body 
as  the  people  among  whom  he  dwelt.  He  was  the  missionary  of 
the  American  Board,  the  Rev.  John  Beveredge,  a  slim,  sickly  gen- 
tleman, whose  lungs  had  driven  him  first  to  South  America,  and 
then  to  this  everlasting  summer.  The  Master  has  modes  to-day 
of  scattering  His  apostles,  and  so  increasing  His  Church,  less  terri- 
ble, but  not  less  certain,  than  those  which  prevailed  in  the  earliest 


MISS  RANKIN'S    WORK.  395 

times.  Then  Herod  drew  his  sword,  and  the  Church  fled  hither 
and  yon,  carrying  the  Word.  Now  He  draws  the  sword  Himself, 
sends  piercing  blasts  through  sensitive  lungs  and  feeble  frames ; 
and  lo  !  these  saints  fly  to  more  genial  climes,  preaching  the  Word. 
Thus  the  Gospel  gets  planted  in  Monterey. 

Miss  Rankin  was  its  real  planter.  She  came  up  here  from  Mat- 
amoras,  led  by  love  of  souls.  She  had  gone  to  Brownsville,  for 
family  reasons.  When  there  she  visited  Matamoras,  and  saw  the 
ignorance  that  settled,  a  thick  cloud,  upon  the  people.  She  gath- 
ered some  children  into  a  school,  and  began  to  teach  them  and 
their  elders  the  way  of  the  Lord  the  more  perfectly.  She  finally 
found  herself  drawn  three  hundred  miles  into  the  country,  and 
Monterey  became  her  chosen  seat.  She  succeeded  in  establishing 
over  a  dozen  schools  and  preaching  places,  which  she  supplied 
with  native  assistants.  The  best  of  bodies  break  down  under  such 
labors,  and  she  had  to  retreat.  She  left  her  work  in  charge  of  the 
American  and  Foreign  Christian  Union,  and  they  in  turn  transfer- 
red it  to  the  American  Board.  Mr.  Beveredge  was  superintending 
this  work.  He  had  several  helpers,  who  came  and  heard  him  in 
the  morning,  and  in  the  afternoon  preached  the  same  sermon  in 
the  villages  round  about.  Much  good  was  being  clone  by  these  ef- 
forts.    But  he  had  his  warfare  in  his  own  Protestant  household. 

A  Baptist  preacher  had  come  thither  and  organized  his  church. 
He  had  clone  his  work  efficiently,  and  therefore  differences  had 
sprung  up  among  the  few  and  feeble  Protestants.  A  discussion 
had  been  going  forward  between  Messrs.  Beveredge  and  Westrup 
in  the  form  of  letters,  which  had  been  collected  by  the  former  into 
a  pamphlet,  and  entitled  "En  Cristo  o  en  Agua"  (In  Christ  or  in 
Water).  This  title  looks  like  begging  the  question.  Being,  as  one 
has  remarked,  of  "impartial  bias"  in  this  contest,  I  visited  both 
meetings.  About  the  same  number,  not  far  from  twenty-five,  were 
present  at  each.  The  Baptists  held  a  Sunday-school,  their  preach- 
er being  out  in  the  villages.  After  service  I  talked  with  them,  and 
found  them  well  watered.  They  were  none  the  less  good  Chris- 
tians  for   that,  and   none   the    more.      One   lady  walked  my  way 


396  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

homeward.  I  conversed  with  her  in  my  broken  Spanish,  and 
found  her  a  Close -communion  Baptist  of  the  first  water.  Some 
complained  of  this  contest.  But  I  went  into  a  Roman  Church, 
and  heard  the  most  eloquent  preacher  I  had  seen  in  the  country, 
declaiming  with  great  passion  to  a  crowded  house  against  Protest- 
antism. Mr.  Beveredge  told  me  he  was  very  active  and  violent  in 
his  opposition.  This  conflict  of  creeds  causQd  his  zeal.  It  show- 
ed that  somebody  in  that  city  was  interested  in  other  forms  of 
Christian  faith.  These  despised  sects  were  like  two  dogs,  who 
might  trot  along  the  streets  in  equal  contempt  and  neglect;  but  if 
they  stopped  and  began  to  fight,  a  ring  was  instantly  formed,  a 
crowd  interested,  and  the  clogs  themselves  arise  in  dog  rank  in 
their  own  judgment  and  in  those  of  their  enemies.  So  Protestant- 
ism is  growing  in  and  by  its  own  internal  and  fraternal  feuds. 

There  is  need  enough  of  it.  The  Sabbath  is  the  best  business 
day  of  the  week.  The  churches,  save  where  the  inflammatory 
priest  preaches,  are  deserted  of  men,  and  well-nigh  of  women. 
There  is  no  spiritual  life  in  all  the  people.  Surely  any  breathing 
is  better  than  death. 

In  the  heart  of  the  town  is  a  fountain  of  rare  abundance,  clear- 
ness, and  sweetness.  The  Eye  of  the  Town  it  is  called,  and  those 
who  drink  of  it,  it  is  said,  can  never  get  away  from  the  city.  It 
was  near  midnight,  and  the  coach  was  to  start  in  three  hours ;  but 
I  risked  it,  drank,  and  got  away.  It  was  delicious  enough,  though, 
to  make  me  long  for  it  still,  and  may  yet  bring  me  back  to  its  lip. 

The  Alameda  of  this  city  is  not  equal  in  rural  beauty  to  that 
of  Saltillo,  but  as  it  is  the  last  we  shall  see,  it  is  not  unworthy  of 
praise.  Nor  is  it  unworthy  in  itself.  A  walled  park,  with  drives, 
shrubbery,  trees,  and  flowers,  well  kept,  it  is  one  of  the  loveliest  of 
its  sort  I  have  seen.  It  will  be  a  new  and  improved  era  when  all 
our  cities  have  such  pretty  drives  and  gardens. 

A  less  agreeable  sight  are  the  spots  on  that  blank  white  wall  in 
a  gardenless  square.  They  are  the  holes  where  the  bullets  that 
missed  the  men  who  stood  before  the  wall  picked  their  way  into 
its  mortar.     It  is  the  place  of  execution.     Even  lately  has  it  been 


IMPEA  rD/A  'G  RE  VOL  UTIONS. 


397 


ALAMEDA,  MONTEREY. 

the  scene  of  such  military  settlements  of  political  quarrels.  That 
blotted  wall  bespeaks  another  trait  of  the  city.  It  is  a  fertile  field 
for  revolutions. 

The  air  of  Monterey  was  full  of  revolution.  Diaz  had  held  out 
a  year  against  the  government  of  Juarez  and  Lerdo,  and  many 
were  looking  and  longing  for  another  outbreak.  This  does  not 
propose  to  take  the  old  form,  but  to  follow  that  of  Texas :  "  Inde- 
pendence and  Annexation."  But  Texas  warns  them  that  that  is 
submission  to  the  American  ;  and  they  hesitate,  and  will.  Better 
work  their  destiny  out  in  their  own  lives  and  language  under  the 
guidance  of  the  American  faith. 


39S  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


XII. 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END. 

Rancho  de  Villa  de  General  Trevina. — A  Sign  of  Home. — A  misty  Escort. — 
mistering  Morin. — Chaparral. — The  changed  Face  of  Nature. — The  Yankee 
Hat  and  Hut.  —  Mesas,  or  Table-lands.  —  The  bottom  Rancho:  Garcia. — 
Mier. — Comargo. — The  Grand  River  unseen,  yet  ever  near. — Last  Night  in  a 
Rancho. — La  Antigua  Renosa. 

A  ride  since  three  o'clock  this  morning  is  an  excuse  for  sleep- 
ing at  near  the  midnight  hour,  especially  as  two  will  find  me  up 
again.  But  the  sight  of  a  petroleum  lamp  is  such  a  novelty  that 
one  can  not  help  being  kept  awake  a  little  season.  I  have  not 
seen  one  on  a  hotel  table  before  since  I  left  the  States.  It  is  like 
the  land -birds  Columbus  saw,  harbingers  of  home.  Not  twenty 
leagues  off  is  the  Rio  Grande.  To-morrow's  breakfast,  if  all  goes 
as  well  as  it  has  gone,  will  be  eaten  on  its  banks.  This  rancho  has, 
therefore,  a  value  above  itself;  as  a  guide-post  near  your  native 
village,  when  returning  thither,  is  far  more  than  cross-beams  and 
common  letters.  It  glows  with  a  glory  and  a  beauty  not  its  own. 
I  am  getting  to  like  ranchos.  This  Rancho  de  Villa  de  General 
Trevina,  despite  its  big  name,  is  very  cordial.  The  dinner  is 
good,  service  amiable,  tezfuerte,  and  the  bed  lies  provokingly  near, 
in  nice  white  sheets,  too  nice  and  white  for  this  dust-covered  form, 
saying,  "  Come  and  rest." 

The  day  broke  on  me  well  out  of  the  gardens  and  grandeurs  of 
Monterey.  Three  hours  I  slept,  while  the  sick  mules  ran  out  of 
that  paradise,  and  regained  outwardly  and  inwardly  Paradise  lost. 
A  thick  mist  hung  around  the  few  low  hills,  reminiscences  of  the 
tall  Sierra  Madre.  The  mist  was  sticky  and  ocean-like,  and  I  fan- 
cied it  had  come  up  from  the  Gulf  to  escort  me  thither.     It  would 


MORIN,  AND  ITS  PEOPLE.  399 

have  badly  spoiled  the  roads  had  it  done  so,  for  the  rain  and  the 
soil  make  a  black  and  pitchy  mixture  which  is  well-nigh  untravers- 
able.  I  greeted  it  as  an  old  friend,  despite  the  fear  that  it  might 
stick  a  good  deal  closer  than  we  desire  the  best  of  old  friends,  all 
the  time,  to  do.  But  the  sun  got  the  mastery  of  it,  and  of  every 
thing  else,  and  blazed  away  without  let  or  hinderance.  At  the  end 
of  eleven  leagues  we  made  the  town  of  Morin,  a  white  and  blis- 
tering place,  its  sun-dried  adobe  still  reproducing  the  sun  too  daz- 
zlingly.  No  trees,  no  shaded  walks,  no  pleasant  fruit  and  farm- 
trading  plaza — only  a  white  heat.  A  cup  of  coldish  water  was  its 
only  relief. 

One  hardly  expected  to  find  even  so  agreeable  a  town  ;.  for  an 
almost  perfect  desolation  preceded  it  for  many  miles.  The  chap- 
arral everywhere  abounded,  tall  and  briery.  A  clearing  or  two 
showed  that  the  land  was  fertile,  and  only  wanted  inclosing  and 
clearing  up  to  be  very  fruitful.  Cattle  and  horses  and  sheep  were 
wandering  among  the  chaparral,  finding  good  herbage.  The  land 
did  not  look  like  Mexico.  It  was  not  high,  hilly,  or  dry.  It  was 
moist,  bushy,  wild,  and  naturally  and  easily  productive. 

Nor  did  the  people  look  like  Mexicans.  They  had  the  Yankee 
hat  and  look,  head-gear  and  complexion,  every  thing  but  the  Yan- 
kee log-hut ;  but  their  ranchos  are  as  bad,  so  the  equality  of  re- 
semblance continues. 

From  Morin  you  begin  to  get  a  view  of  the  general  lay  of  the 
land.  Leaving  out  that  low  sierra  in  front  of  us,  which  we  shall 
soon  circumvent  and  omit  from  the  scene,  you  note,  as  the  charac- 
teristic, that  it  slides  off  in  successive  terraces,  miles  wide.  It  be- 
gan at  Monterey,  eight  hundred  feet  above  the  Gulf.  It  declines 
gradually  to  the  sea-level.  Probably  half  of  it  is  made  at  this 
place. 

The  mesas,  or  tables,  as  these  landspreads  are  called,  are  broad 
and  level,  and  from  them  you  see  a  lower  but  not  low  valley,  wider 
than  themselves,  spreading  out  for  scores  of  miles,  until  its  green 
is  lost  in  the  blue  of  the  sky.  As  you  descend  easily  and  by  very 
short  falls  into  this  lower  valley,  you  find  that  it  is  not  a  complete 


400  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

level,  but  a  succession  of  slight  fallings  off.  So  you  clip  clown,  lit- 
tle by  little,  to  the  sea.  A  half-dozen  leagues  from  Morin,  we  go 
through  a  dismal  rancho  with  a  grand  name,  which  I  have  forgot- 
ten. All  these  ranchos  have  grand  names,  and  nothing  else.  Its 
wells  are  numerous,  and  have  a  stone  curb  and  two  stone  pillars 
that  support  the  beam  that  holds  the  rope  that  lifts  the  pail. 

This  hill  we  run  down  amidst  chaparral  of  very  fine  greenness, 
but  of  no  present  value.  Our  halt  for  breakfast  is  at  the  rancho 
Garcia,  the  bottom  of  our  experiences.  Our  meal  is  served  under 
a  thatched  roof  with  bamboo  sides,  with  the  tortillas  frying,  and  the 
smoke  ascending  and  descending,  especially  the  latter.  The  girls 
are  dirtier,  if  possible,  than  the  food.  It  seemed  impossible  to  taste 
their  filthy  dishes.  But  hunger,  like  necessity, knows  no  law;  and 
a  little  nibbling  carries  us  on  till  night-fall. 

The  trees  stand  grand  about  the  smoky  hut,  and  the  natives 
lounge  under  the  grandest  one.  As  a  dessert,  I  get  up  a  broken 
talk  with  them,  and  so  overcome  the  cry  of  hunger  within.  The 
still  better  cry  of  "  Vaminos  "  calls  me  gladly  away  from  the  tree 
and  rancho.  The  road  pursues  the  same  path  through  an  open, 
empty,  thorn-covered  country,  rich  for  every  manner  of  fruit,  when 
it  can  have  rest  and  an  intelligent  population.  Night  finds  us  in 
a  town  of  huts,  whose  name  I  have  lost.  It  was  called,  as  most  are 
hereabouts,  for  some  general  of  a  revolution,  and  will  probably  be 
changed  after  the  next  pronunciamento  for  his  name  who  shall 
then  make  a  successful  revolt  of  a  moment.  But  the  narrow  room 
is  cleanly ;  its  hard  earthen  floor  is  smooth  and  swept,  and  after 
Garcia  its  meal  is  metropolitan. 

We  are  up  and  off  at  three,  through  the  same  dull  landscape, 
hardly  varied  now  with  glimpse  of  hill,  green,  flowery,  capable,  and 
empty.  We  are  pulling  straight  for  the  river;  when  we  reach  it 
we  shall  turn  Gulfward.  Open  and  settled  spaces  reveal  them- 
selves as  we  get  near  the  American  line,  and  our  breakfast  is 
served  at  noon  in  the  quite  bustling  Mier.  A  Frenchman  from 
Paris,  7'/a  New  York,  gets  up  a  goodly  meal  of  mixed  American  and 
Parisian  sort.     The  school  is  just  out,  and  boys  are  lounging,  in 


SIGNS  OF  HOME.  4oi 

true  Yankee  fashion,  about  the  coach.  The  town  is  half  Mexican, 
half  American.  Open  fields  and  open  windows  show  the  North- 
erner is  here.  Adobe  houses  and  blank  walls  and  big  coach  doors 
show  the  Mexican  is  here  also.  England  and  Spain  meet  and  min- 
gle on  the  outskirts  of  either  realm. 

A  pull  till  four,  through  like  expressionless  country,  brings  us  to 
Comargo,  the  Rio  Bravo,  and  the  end  of  Mexico,  though  thirty-six 
hours  still  remain  between  being  on  the  one  bank  and  on  the  oth- 
er of  the  Grand  and  Brave  river.  This  border  town  is  the  clean- 
est and  dullest  of  all  between  Monterey  and  Matamoras.  An  in- 
let of  the  Rio  Grande,  quite  a  stream,  puts  up  behind  the  town,  and 
is  crossed  by  a  tedious  ferriage.  The  steep  bank  is  pulled  up, 
and  the  broad  plaza  stretches  out,  a  third  of  a  mile  almost.  At 
its  upper  end  are  Government  buildings,  spacious,  pretty,  and  cool. 
At  its  lower  end  is  a  covered  market,  an  unseen  sight  farther  in- 
land, swept,  garnished,  and  empty.  A  few  stores  inclose  the  square 
on  its  two  sides  parallel  with  the  two  rivers.  Here  I  get  my  last 
packet  of  silver,  and  the  coach  proceeds  in  the  gathering  sunset 
hours  adown  the  banks  of  the  river.  Its  waters  are  not  seen,  but  I 
know  they  are  only  a  mile  or  so  away,  and  that  that  Northern  sky 
is  over  the  land  of  my  fathers  and  my  faith. 

The  trees  grow  large,  the  fields  are  open  and  cultivated.  Every 
thing  is  American  and  fascinating.  No  matter  how  much  we  may 
admire  foreign  sights,  home  sights  are  ever  the  tenderer  and  love- 
lier. Brilliant  Mexico,  with  its  magnificent  volcanoes,  barrancas, 
and  haciendas;  its  wonderful  flowering  and  fruit;  its  orange  or- 
chards and  banana  groves  and  maguey  prairies ;  its  ancient  piles 
and  its  modern  —  all  are  forgotten  in  the  familiar  landscape  of 
this  semi-northern  river.  It  is  near  midnight  ere  we  reach  our 
last  rancho  for  the  night,  La  Antigua  Renosa. 

The  rancho  is,  like  its  creator  man,  susceptible  of  progress.  These 
three  nights  have  demonstrated  this.  Each  good  as  compared  with 
fears  and  with  maledictions,  the  present  and  last  is  the  best.  A 
dozen  new  chairs  of  Yankee  make,  hard-bottomed,  brown-painted, 
arc  arranged  around  the  room,  as  if  they  were  expecting  a  prayer- 


402  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

meeting,  or  a  log-cabin  preaching.  The  table  has  nice  white  ware, 
also  of  the  latest  Yankee  pattern  ;  the  Yankee  candle  stands  in  its 
shining  brass  candlestick  in  a  plate  in  the  centre.  Surely  here  is 
no  antiqua  Renosa,  but  one  most  modern.  But  even  this  word  is 
modernized,  for  the  name  they  gave  me  was,  Los  Renos  a  Viejo,  or 
some  such  affair ;  Viejo  is  too  old-fashioned  a  word,  and  so  gives 
place  to  La  Antigua — "old  "  to  "ancient." 

The  dinner,  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  is  being  got  ready.  Not 
old  that ;  they  never  prepare  that  till  the  passengers  come.  The 
coaches  from  Matamoras  have  just  arrived,  and  quite  a  crowd 
criss-cross  at  this  out-of-the-way  corner.  Longfellow's  "Wayside 
Inn"  could  much  more  properly  have  been  written  of  this  spot 
than  of  Sudbury,  where  such  characters  as  his  could  no  more  have 
been  weather-bound  than  born. 

A  good  meal  follows,  and  a  good  sleep,  though  all  too  short ;  for 
at  four  we  are  off,  half  asleep  still. 


WRITING  AND  R 7 DING. 


403 


XIII. 

JOLTINGS  AND    JOTTINGS. 

A  Creator  and  an  Imitator. — Church-making  and  Carriage-writing. — The  old- 
est Church  and  the  youngest. — Compagneiis  du  Voyage. — A  Brandy-sucker. 
— Prohibition  for  Mexico. — Talks  with  the  Coachman  and  Mozo. — Hides  and 
Shoes. — San  Antonio. — Its  Casa  and  Inmates. — Rancho  Beauties. — Women's 
Rights  in  Mexico. — Sermonizing  in  the  Wilderness. — A  Night  on  Stage-top. 
— Fantastic  Forms. — Spiritual  Phantasms. — Light  in  a  dark  Place. — Mata- 
moras  and  Brownsville. 

"John  Wesley  created  a  Church,"  said  an  ambitious  minister 
not  long  since;  "why  may  not  I?"  One  effort  to  imitate  that  ex- 
ample would  have  satisfied  the  aspirant.  Many  have  tried  it  be- 
fore and  since,  but  few  with  such  results :  Mr.  Weinbrenner,  Mr. 
Shinn,  Mr.  Capers,  Mr.  Scott,  Mr.  Campbell;  but  they  did  not  make 
such  a  big  thing  of  it  after  all.  I  heard  a  good  story  in  Mexico  of 
Mr.  Campbell  and  his  church.  The  late  Roman  Catholic  Arch- 
bishop of  Baltimore  was  talking  with  an  earnest  female  Campbell- 
ite  cousin  of  his.  Said  he,  "  If  I  was  not  a  Roman  Catholic,  I 
would  be  a  Campbellite."  "Why  so?"  asks  the  lady,  delighted  at 
this  half  a  loaf.  "  Because,"  he  answers,  "  if  I  did  not  belong  to 
the  oldest  Church,  I  would  to  the  youngest." 

Now,  if  I  can  not  imitate  John  Wesley  in  creating  a  Church,  I 
can  try  to  copy  his  example  in  a  hardly  less  remarkable  gift,  writ- 
ing in  a  coach.  If  this  is  so  very  difficult,  as  the  compositors  would 
affirm  could  they  but  see  the  sheets  on  which  this  is  penciled,  how 
much  more  difficult  must  it  have  been  for  his  ecclesiastical  compo- 
sition. True,  I  have  not  his  smooth  roads  and  table  fitted  to  the 
carriage,  but  I  have  a  road  almost  as  good,  and  a  slow  and  easy-go- 
ing coach.  The  last  day  in  Mexico  I  may  well  be  treated  to  this 
luxury.     I  am  nearing  Matamoras,  having  been  for  twenty  days, 


404  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

Sundays  excepted,  an  occupant  of  a  locomotive  house,  which, 
though  changing  itself  regularly,  has  never  really  changed.  It  has 
ever  been  the  self-same  vehicle,  of  a  faded  red  without,  a  dirty  and 
dusty  leathern  buff  within.  Along  its  upper  edge  has  always  been 
printed,  "  Empresa  Uiligencias  Generates, "  or  General  Diligence 
Company.  Here  I  have  laid  off,  sometimes  on  nine  seats,  almost 
always  on  three,  slept  much,  seen  much,  talked  little,  read  less,  and 
written  least.  I  have  had  many  talks  with  myself,  because  I  had 
no. better  or  worse  companion,  if  worse  there  could  be ;  sad  talks 
and  pleasant,  worrysome  and  worryless. 

As  it  was  the  only  seat  taken  through,  so  not  many  others  have 
been  occupied  for  even  an  occasional  posta.  One  started  from 
Mexico  with  me,  whom  I  left  at  Queretaro,  as  my  going  forward 
would  have  necessitated  my  riding  on  the  Sabbath,  and  from  that, 
my  edition  of  the  Litany  reads,  "  Good  Lord,  deliver  us."  And  He 
has  so  far  delivered  me.  He  has  also  added  a  favor  not  especially 
asked,  and  allowed  me  to  speak  in  every  city  of  Sabbath  sojourn, 
save  one,  the  words  of  His  grace.  That  one,  Queretaro,  I  strove 
hard  to  get  three  English-hearing  people  to  arrange  a  service.  I 
failed,  perhaps  because  I  did  not  ask  the  lady  of  the  trio.  She 
would  have  let  me  in,  I  think. 

I  took  up  one  and  another  companion  for  short  stages,  one  of 
whom  I  recall  as  a  very  polite  gentleman,  who  gave  me  much  in- 
formation, talking  slowly  and  distinctly,  so  that  my  untrained  ear 
might  distinguish  the  words,  a  gift  my  untrained  coachman  never 
could  attain. 

His  successor,  for  a  posta,  was  of  another  type.  Bringing  a 
leathern  bottle  with  him,  with  a  very  small  faucet,  he  kept  steadi- 
ly sucking  brandy  out  of  that  tiny  hole,  leaning  back  his  head  to 
catch  the  oozing  drop,  slowly  descending,  as  if  it  was  ashamed  to 
leave  the  upper  leathery  bag  for  the  baser  human  one  below.  I 
was  rejoiced  to  see  any  such. sign  of  a  not  utterly  fallen  sort  of 
brandy.  It  does  harm  enough  to  more  than  offset  this  only  symp- 
tom of  a  better  nature.  It  is  the  drink  of  all  foreigners  and  the 
better-off  class  of  natives.    I  have  seen  Germans  nearly  drain  a  full 


GARRULOUS.VESS  OF  MOZOS.  405 

flask  in  a  single  day's  ride  ;  and  an  Englishman  pour  a  half-tum- 
bler, undiluted  by  water,  clown  the  throat  of  a  six-year-old  daugh- 
ter. Of  course,  they  themselves  set  the  bigger  example  ;  for  our 
English  brothers  are  the  hardest  drinkers  in  the  world,  or  are  only 
excelled  by  their  American  cousins,  who  excel  them  in  debauch- 
ery, since  these  trample  conscience  under  their  lust  of  appetite,  or 
more  usually,  fear  of  man  ;  for  it  is  love  of  fashion,  rather  than  love 
of  liquor,  that  makes  the  American  drink.  How  glad  I  was  to 
read  in  Monterey  last  Saturday  that  Massachusetts  had  repealed 
the  Beer  Act,  and  by  such  a  grand  majority.  The  fall  of  '66  is 
the  rising  again  of  '73.  Though  she  may  fall  again,  it  will  only 
be  to  a  perpetual  struggle  until  she  shall  attain  a  permanent  de- 
liverance. How  far  shines  that  good  deed  in  this  naughty  world! 
Away  across  the  country,  and  into  this  land,  that  no  more  dreams 
of  Prohibition  than  it  does  of  Protestantism,  burns  this  ray  of  the 
coming  sun  that  shall  renew  the  lace  of  all  the  land  and  of  all 

lands. 

But  the  few  people  of  the  coach  have  not  interested  me  so  much 
as  the  coachmen  themselves.  They  and  their  mozos  have  been  a 
constant  study.  The  one  that  took  me  across  the  battle-field  of 
Buena  Vista  was  a  vehement  talker,  especially  after  he  had  been 
promised  a  dollar  if  he  would  deliver  me  at  Saltillo  two  hours 
earlier  than  his  accustomed  time.  He  described  every  mountain, 
some  of  them,  I  have  no  doubt,  for  the  first  time,  and  with  a  nomen- 
clature of  his  own  creation.  He  described  the  plants  and  their 
qualities — this  for  soup,  and  that  for  medicine  ;  went  over  the  whole 
battle-field  and  battle  as  though  his  side  had  conquered,  just  as 
our  guides  do  to  British  visitors  at  Bunker  Hill. 

Yesterday's  drivers  were  of  a  younger  sort.  They  were  near  of 
an  age,  not  far  from  twenty-four.  Usually  the  mozo  is  a  lad,  the 
driver  a  man  of  forty.  These,  boys  as  they  looked,  drank  muscat, 
a  strong  liquor  of  the  smell  of  whisky,  lashed  and  stoned  the  tired 
mules  beyond  boyish  enthusiasm,  sang,  and  were  jolly  exceedingly. 
They  knew  but  little,  and  seemed  -lad  they  knew  no  more.  The 
driver  was  smart,  dark,  fine-looking,  and  would  mike  a  good  gen- 


406  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

eral  or  preacher,  if  he  had  had  the  chance  of  the  one,  or  the  grace 
of  the  other. 

To-day's  mozo  is  of  another  type.  The  driver  slept  all  the  morn- 
ing under  his  seat,  and  I  acted  the  part  of  the  mozo,  plying  the 
lash  to  the  rear  mule,  and  the  stones  to  the  leaders,  as  if  anxious 
to  show  my  zeal  in  order  to  get  promoted.  The  poor  fellows  were 
so  sick  with  the  epizootic  that  they  could  hardly  move.  And  the 
only  response  they  made  to  my  applications,  not  sermonic,  was  a 
kick  or  two  occasionally  from  the  off-mule.  Or  was  it  the  nigh 
one  ?  My  horsemanship  can  not  answer  that  conundrum.  They 
did  right  to  kick.  As  Balaam's  ass  was  wiser  than  he,  so  these, 
his  half-brothers,  were  wiser  than  the  half-brother  of  that  prophet. 
For  they  had  dragged  the  coach  in  on  the  last  night's  posta,  and 
then,  with  only  four  hours'  rest,  had  been  compelled  to.  drag  it  back 
again  ;  and  sick  at  that.  No  wonder  they  were  no  quiere  to  any 
request  for  them  to  urge  their  step  beyond  the  slowest  walk.  I 
beg  their  pardon  for  my  stony  salutations.  They  made  the  five 
leagues  in  five  hours,  less  than  three  miles  an  hour,  and  they  did 
well. 

Between  the  beatings  with  whip  and  stones,  in  which  latter  I  be- 
came quite  expert,  I  talked  to  the  mozo  on  all  sorts  of  subjects  : 
home,  business,  prospects,  religion.  He  said  that  he  was  thirty- 
seven  years  old  ;  married  at  thirty.  His  wife  was  then  fifteen.  He 
had  one  child,  Thomas,  aged  four.  He  had  no  more  children  ; 
it  cost  so  much  to  support  them,  and  they  all  took  to  drink.  He 
said  ladies  were  called  young  at  twelve,  thirteen,  and  fourteen,  and 
as  late  as  fifteen,  but  old  at  twenty.  His  wife  attended  church, 
but  he  was  kept  at  work  on  the  road  Sunday,  and  rested  Monday, 
just  in  order  to  break  the  Sabbath.  He  thought  I  must  be  rich : 
worth  not  less  than  two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  was  sur- 
prised to  see  that  fortune  dwindle  to  naught.  What  could  I  be  ? 
he  asks.  "Predicado,"  I  say.  It  was  a  sort  of  Spanish  he  had 
never  heard,  nor  I  either  before  I  used  it ;  but  it  was  a  guess  at 
"preacher."  A  "padre"  he  knew  too  well,  and  a  friar;  but  a 
preacher  was  a  new  vocation.     So  I  added,  for  his  illumination,  "  a 


THE  DIFFERENCE  — WHY?  4o7 

missionary."  "  Romanista  ?"  "  No  !  Metodista."  "  Protestante  ?" 
"  Si."  He  is  a  little  surprised  at  this,  and  ready  to  draw  back,  for 
his  wife's  faith  has  a  hold  upon  him.  He  soon  recovers,  and  tells 
me  about  a  senora  who  had  often  passed  over  this  road.  "  Seno- 
ra  who  ?"  "  Senora  Protestante — Senora  Virga,"  he  adds.  A  new 
phrase  to  me,  as  I  had  supposed  that  senora  was  only  applied  to 
married  ladies,  senorita  being  the  unmarried  title.  He  showed 
that  the  Spanish  followed  the  English  custom,  which  very  properly 
calls  unmarried  ladies  of  mature  age  after  the  married  ladies'  title. 
Yet,  as  a  maid  with  them  is  old  when  past  fifteen,  this  remark  is 
not  as  sure  a  proof  of  advancing  years  as  it  might  be  in  higher  lat- 
itudes. 

I  thought  he  was  trying  to  say  something  about  the  Senora  of 
Guadalupe ;  so  I  sought  in  this  direction.  But  I  found  I  was  off 
the  track.  It  flashed  upon  me.  "  Senora  at  Monterey  ?"  "  Si ! 
si !"  "  Senora  Rankin  ?"  "  Si !"  This  lady's  work  and  fame  have 
thus  made  her  known  to  the  common  people.  And  well  she  de- 
serves to  be,  for  hers  is  by  far  the  best  work  in  all  this  part  of  the 
country. 

We  pass  a  load  of  ox-hides.  "How  much  are  they  worth?" 
"A  real  apiece,  here.  In  Matamoras,  a  real  and  medio."  "  How 
much  do  your  boots  cost?"  "In  Matamoras,  four  dollars  and  a 
half;  in  Monterey,  seven  dollars."  So  they  sell  the  hide  for  twelve 
and  a  half  cents,  or  get  eighteen  and  three-quarters  by  carrying  it 
a  hundred  miles,  two  weeks'  journey  (fifteen  miles  being  a  good 
day's  journey  for  mules  and  oxen),  and  then  pay  from  four  and  a 
half  to  seven  dollars  to  get  that  same  hide  transformed  into  a  pair 
of  boots.  So  much  for  the  difference  between  Mexico  and  Massa- 
chusetts. No  more  duty  protects  the  latter  than  the  former.  Not 
so  much,  probably  ;  for  every  thing  here  is  taxed,  and  taxed  hor- 
ribly. 

He  asks  which  I  like  best,  Mexico  or  the  United  States.  "  Both," 
I  diplomatically  answer.  I  try  to  describe  the  beauty  and  wealth 
of  Mexico,  and  the  comfort  of  the  people  of  the  States,  especially 
the  poor ;  floors  to  their  rooms,  not  earth,  as  here  ;  chairs,  tables, 

27 


4o8  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

beds,  all  nearly  unknown.  His  eye  flashed  with  longings  for  that 
goodly  land.    When  will  ours  be  altogether  such,  and  this  be  like  it  ? 

I  asked  how  long  it  would  take  to  reach  the  next  posta :  "An 
hour?"  "Two."  "No,  one."  "Two."  He  drew  out  a  dollar, 
and  offered  to  bet.  So  I  had  the  privilege  of  resisting  no  severe 
temptation,  especially  as  there  was  not  even  a  watch  among  us 
three  ;  and  therefore  it  would  not  have  been  possible  to  prove  ei- 
ther true.  I  had  also  the  better  privilege  of  setting  forth  the  evils 
of  gambling;  how  it  made  him  lose  all  his  wages,  leave  his  wife 
and  child  without  bread,  and  otherwise  destroy  him.  I  was  aston- 
ished at  my  liberty  of  prophesying  in  the  unknown  tongue,  and 
could  almost  see  how  that  the  love  of  Christ,  without  a  miracle, 
under  the  mighty  breathings  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  could  make  the 
disciples  speak  with  other  tongues.  The  Spirit  gave  them  utter- 
ance. 

The  village  of  San  Antonio  is  reached  at  length,  a  blazing  speck 
of  white  on  a  low  hill  overhanging  the  Rio  Grande.  It  looks  al- 
most as  pretty  as  a  New  England  town,  as  you  approach  it  through 
the  interminable  groves  of  mesquite.  But  enter  it.  Only  a  per- 
petual fire,  a  perpetual  desolation.  The  huge  plaza  is  without 
shrub  or  speck  to  mitigate  its  whiteness.  Not  a  flower  to  relieve 
the  white  heat  of  the  houses.  Many  of  the  houses  are  in  ruins. 
The  church  has  a  skull  near  its  entrance,  an  appropriate  symbol 
of  the  town. 

Yet  here  I  found  several  things  of  a  contrary  sort.  There  are 
a  custom-house  and  its  officers  :  for  this  is  a  smuggling  port,  and 
each  nation  has  its  officers  to  protect  its  rights,  or  its  claims  rather, 
for  rights  in  customs  there  are  none.  People  have  as  much  right 
to  carry  their  wares  across  the  line  as  to  cross  it  themselves.  It 
looks  as  if  these  officers  had  killed  the  town,  for  smuggling  was 
its  life. 

The  place  where  we  had  our  breakfast  was  another  novelty.  It 
was  a  casa  with  three  rooms,  the  first  large,  with  a  wide  bed  in  the 
corner  of  the  American  type.  All  Mexican  beds  are  single.  It 
also  had  high-posters,  after  the  old  American  fashion.     Its  dirty 


A   RANCHO  BEAUTY.  4o9 

pillow-cases  suggested  livelier  dirt  below.  A  fashion-plate  and  a 
fancy  girl  of  the  period — a  bright-colored  Hartford  print — set  off 
the  walls,  evidently  showing  travel  on  the  part  of  the  ladies  of  the 
house  or  desire  for  it,  there  being  no  room  for  fashion-plates  in  the 
rebosa  and  skirt,  which  compose  their  usual  costume. 

I  glanced  into  the  kitchen,  and  concluded  to  take  a  nearer  view. 
It  was  a  farmer's  kitchen,  larger  by  far  than  any  rancho  or  peon 
could  boast  of.  Its  high  thatched  roof  looked  cool,  and  the  smoke 
from  its  tortilla  frying-pan  wandered  unharmed  and  unharming 
among  the  rafters.  The  good  lady,  young  at  forty,  sat  on  the 
ground,  busy  over  her  stew-pans.  A  daughter,  of  the  overripe  age 
of  sixteen,  was  frying  the  tortillas,  which  a  twelve-year-old  young 
lady  was  kneading.  A  taller  miss,  between  the  two,  was  walk- 
ing about  in  a  very  draggly  pink  skirt,  and  a  very  old  daughter  of, 
possibly,  eighteen,  sat  on  the  ground,  assisting  her  mother.  Three 
younger  girls  were  sitting  or  toddling  around,  and  a  ten-year-old 
was  chatting  with  a  boy  of  like  age,  while  also  busy  with  kitchen 
duties  of  the  vegetable  sort.  I  was  surprised  to  see  so  large  a 
crowd,  and  they  were  doubtless  more  surprised  to  see  me,  with  my 
unwashed  and  unshorn  face,  huge  sombrero,  and  dusty  garments, 
peering  into  their  common  room. 

But  they  were  too  near  the  border  to  be  disturbed  by  this  Yan- 
kee freedom.  The  good  lady  told  me  that  these  were  all  her 
daughters.  The  boy  was  not  hers  ;  he  was  an  outsider.  She  has 
eight  children,  seven  daughters.  They  were  unusually  comely, 
and  the  one  just  a  little  year  beyond  "young,"  according  to  our 
mozo,  would  make  an  impression  in  any  society.  She  was  as 
beautiful  as  the  ragged  and  almost  naked  Apollo  lad  whom  I  had 
seen  as  near  the  beginning  of  the  trip  as  I  had  this  industrious  and 
modest  Venus  near  its  end.  I  could  easily  see  how  my  Vermont 
brother  in  Saltillo  had  been  swept  from  his  bachelor  moorings  by 
a  rancho  beauty.  As  she  sat  there  on  the  ground  frying  tortillas, 
she  made  one  think  of  Thackeray's  "  Peg  of  Limovaddy :" 

"  Hebe's  self,  I  thought, 
Entered  the  apartment : 


4IO  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

As  she  came  she  smiled, 

And  the  smile  bewitching, 
On  my  word  and  honor, 

Lighted  all  the  kitchen. 
See  her  as  she  moves  ; 

Scarce  the  ground  she  touches, 
Airy  as  a  fay, 

Graceful  as  a  duchess." 

This  maiden  of  San  Antonio  had  like  natural  graces,  and  was 
doomed  to  a  like  wasting  of  them  on  this  desert  air.  What  would 
not  this  group  of  superior  girls  do  with  the  advantages  of  superior 
society  ?  Culture  and  Christ  would  make  them  all  beautiful  with- 
in. Now  they  were  comely  of  countenance  ;  then,  also,  of  soul. 
Yet  perhaps  they  are  safer  and  happier  in  this  humble  obscurity 
than  if  exposed  to  a  city's  culture  and  a  city's  shame.  May  this 
family  be  kept  as  godly  as  goodly. 

The  dinner  was  hardly  equal  to  the  handsome,  youthful  cooks 
who  had  prepared  it.  In  variety  it  was  sufficient.  Four  ways  of 
preparing  meat,  and  two  of  eggs  ;  but  its  ways  were  too  new  for  me. 
Soup,  made  by  stewing  fat  meat  in  water,  was  eagerly  drank  by  the 
coachman, but  was  too  greasy  for  my  palate.  The  two  fattest  parts 
of  the  meat,  served  up  separately,  were  pointed  out  by  the  gentle- 
man of  the  house  as  especially  excellent.  Solid  junks  of  fat  they 
were,  and  each  was  eaten  by  the  cochero  and  his  mozo  as  confirm- 
atory of  the  landlord's  judgment.  The  fry,  and  the  tortillas,  and 
the  unmilked  coffee,  and  the  poor  water,  just  made  the  dinner  pass- 
able, and  that  only  because  I  was  comforted  with  the  thought  that 
one  more  meal,  and  Brownsville  and  a  beefsteak  were  mine.  The 
handsome  cooks  spoiled  the  broth,  and  a  plainer  face  and  better 
cuisine  would  have  been  more  agreeable.  Thackeray  wisely  omits 
the  description  of  Peg's  dinner. 

A  sign  of  the  esteem  in  which  the  fair,  fat,  and  forty  lady  of  the 
house  is  held  by  her  husband,  or  a  token  of  the  manner  in  which 
she  rules  him,  is  made  manifest  to  all  visitors  ;  for  is  it  not  printed 
in  good  round  letters  on  one  of  the  beams  that  crosses  the  ceiling 
of  the  dining-room? 


THE   COMING   WOMAN.  4H 

"Cedo,  yo,  Francisco,  est  a  Casa  a  mi  Sposa,  Maria  Lucia  Zepada  de 

Conclingo." 
(/,  Francisco,  give  this  house  to  my  wife,  Mary  Lucia  Zepada  de  Conclingo.) 

How  many  husbands  have  the  courage  to  make  like  proclama- 
tion ?  "Very  uncommon  in  Mexico,"  says  the  American  custom- 
house clerk ;  very  uncommon  anywhere.  Yet  the  fact  is  not  un- 
common. In  a  town  adjoining  Boston,  a  gentleman  said  his  was 
the  only  house  that  was  not  deeded  to  the  wife  of  the  occupant. 
Better  put  the  fact  over  the  door.  Still,  though  the  wives  own  all  the 
best  houses  in  that  large  town,  and  can  sell  them,  and  be  sued  for 
them,  they  can  not  vote  to  protect  them,  to  keep  out  the  liquor-shops 
which  injure  their  property,  and  to  create  a  government  which  shall 
improve  it.  I  read  in  the  coach  to-day  that  the  Maine  House  of 
Representatives  had  voted  woman  the  ballot.  The  Senate  should 
follow  its  example.  It  is  the  seal  of  assurance  to  her  liquor  legisla- 
tion. It  is  the  only  salvation  of  the  ballot-box  from  the  stuffing  and 
bribing  abominations  of  to-day.  Senora  Maria  Lucia  Zepada,  etc., 
is  a  sign  of  the  coming  woman  in  the  State,  in  all  save  her  cooking. 
She  looks  as  if  able  to  bear  her  honors,  with  her  large  and  healthy 
and  handsome  family  ;  not  a  solitary  and  sickly  unit,  to  which  so- 
cial ideas  now  diminish  and  degrade  the  household.  With  her 
abundant  kitchenly  ways,  owning  her  casa  and  honoring  it,  shall 
she  not  also  jointly  own  and  honor  the  State  ? 

Much  more,  the  Church ;  for  there  her  heart  is,  and  her  treasure 
also.  Let  not  the  Church  lag  behind  the  State  in  opening  every 
door  to  her  admittance.  Let  her  be  welcomed,  especially  when 
she  is  knocking  at  these  doors  ;  nay,  when  the  Lord  has  Himself 
come  down  from  heaven  and  opened  these  doors,  not  by  sending 
His  angel,  but  by  the  abundant  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Spirit  with 
signs  following.  Not  more  clearly  was  Paul  thrust  among  the  un- 
willing Peter  and  his  ten — the  vacancy  in  the  apostolate  being  kept 
open  by  the  Head  of  the  Church  for  his  admission — than  is  the 
sisterhood  of  the  Church  thrust  by  the  same  Head  into  like  fellow- 
ship with  their  elder,  but  not  superior,  brethren.  He  that  hath  ears 
let  him  hear  what  the  Spirit  saith  unto  the  churches. 


4I2  OCA  XEXT-DOOR   NEIGHBOR. 

"  Bucn  /"  (\\'ell),  as  they  say  here,  the  same  as  we  ;  our  bad  din- 
ner has  given  us  a  good  long  dessert  in  the  shape  of  a  dull  sermon. 

"  Now  good  digestion  wait  on  appetite, 
And  health  on  both." 

Good-bye  to  the  hung  beef,  a  clothes-line  of  which  is  stretched 
across  the  yard  ;  to  the  poor  cooking  and  pretty  faces ;  to  the  casa 
and  its  owner  ;  and,  it  must  be  confessed,  to  the  somewhat  hen- 
pecked-looking husband  and  father  ;  to  the  custom-house  friends ; 
and  to  San  Antonio. 

The  hot  day  drags  to  its  close.  The  mules  onward  "  plod  their 
weary  way."  Gray's  ox  is  not  slower.  How  their  prancing  fleet- 
ness  is  changed. 

The  same  green  wood  everywhere  embraces  me  that  has  em- 
braced me  for  this  last  two  hundred  miles — mesquite,  mesquite, 
mesquite.  It  sometimes  rises  to  the  height  of  an  apple  or  willow, 
very  rarely  to  that  of  a  maple.  Brush  is  its  proper  level.  Grass, 
weeds,  thorny  bushes,  ground-flower  cactuses  of  yellow  and  purple 
and  magnificent  crimson,  humble,  but  hardly  less  beautiful,  thorn- 
less  pink,  and  daisy,  and  dandelion — very  old,  dear,  homely,  and 
homeful  creatures  —  and  chiquitite,  tiniest  flowers  of  every  sort, 
a  bed  of  beauty ;  such  is  the  rich,  green  desolate  valley  on  the 
Mexican  side  of  the  Grand  River  of  the  North. 

For  three  hundred  miles  it  is  practically  without  inhabitant. 
Not  less  so  is  the  American  side.  Every  inch  fertile,  and  capable, 
like  the  ground  of  a  certain  rich  man,  of  bringing  forth  abundantly. 
Why  should  so  many  starve  and  pinch  and  toil  when  this  abun- 
dance goes  untouched  ?  How  alike  is  the  God  of  nature  and  of 
grace !  Ever  thus  He  spreads  His  table  of  salvation  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  ever  thus  man  prefers  starving  in  sin  to  sumptuous  fare  at 
His  overladen  board.  For  four  thousand  years  has  He  said,  "  Ho, 
every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters,  and  he  that  hath  no 
money  ;  come  ye,  buy  and  eat ;  yea,  come,  buy  wine  and  milk  with- 
out money  and  without  price."  Still  they  come  not ;  they  dig 
out  their  own  broken  cisterns  ;  they  eat  their  own  tasteless  food. 


A   NIGHT  ON  THE   COACH-TOP.  413 

Shall  it  be  always  so  ?  Will  every  generation  thus  treat  the  Lord 
and  His  royal  feasts  ?     Many  have  come  ;  more  will. 

These  lands  are  filling  up.  Those  superb  white  Roman  Cam- 
pagna  oxen  that  just  passed  us  are  driven  by  a  new  settler.  That 
pretty  log-hut,  with  its  half-dozen  Yankee-looking  men  and  women 
at  its  door,  is  the  first  I  have  seen  in  Mexico.  How  like  Minne- 
sota it  looks.  Only  Minnesota  does  not  have  such  a  soft  spring 
garb  on  this  second  day  of  April.  They  are  the  indices  of  the 
coming  myriads  that  will  make  this  lovely  desert  lovelier  with  hu- 
man life  and  love.  So  shall  the  overflowing  and  ever-neglected 
gifts  of  God  in  Christ,  this  wilderness  of  grace,  this  prairie  ocean 
of  salvation,  be  more  and  more  appropriated  by  the  sinful,  sensual 
heart  of  man,  famishing  for  bread,  hungering  and  thirsting  after  the 
righteousness  of  Christ.  They  shall  reject  alike  the  crudities  of 
superstition  and  of  false  and  haughty  self-sufficiency,  the  religion 
of  idolatry  and  of  a  spurious  humanity,  and,  sitting  at  the  feet  of 
Christ,  Creator,  Saviour,  Brother,  shall  grow  up  into  Him  who  is  the 
head  over  all  things,  blessed  forever. 

The  sun  is  gone  ;  the  shade  is  coming.  Matamoras  is  a  long 
sixteen  miles  off,  at  our  slow  walking  pace,  but  the  first  jotting  in  a 
Mexican  coach  is  ended.  Not  so  the  joltings  ;  they  continue  till 
day-break.  The  musings  with  the  pencil  end  at  dusk  at  a  rancho 
by  the  roadside,  the  last  and  worst  of  all.  Still  the  tortillas  and 
the  coffee,  as  being  the  last,  were  kindly  entertained,  the  children 
duly  patted  and  pennied,  the  parents  praised  ;  and  gladness  un- 
speakable filled  the  heart  as  the  slow  mules  pulled  slowly  away. 
No  more  starting  off  in  a  whirlwind  rush  ;  that  is  reserved  for  city 
taverns,  where  glory  and  gain  go  together.  It  is  night-fall  ere  they 
leave,  and  six  leagues  (sixteen  miles)  are  to  be  dragged  over.  Mid- 
night they  are  due,  and  in  expectancy  thereof  I  foolishly  mount  on 
the  top  of  the  coach.  The  woods  grow  denser  as  the  sky  grows 
darker.  The  branches  brush  my  head,  but  I  am  no  fly,  and  not  to 
be  brushed  into  the  empty  coach  below.  I  sit  it  out,  seeing  fantas- 
tic forms  in  every  shadowy  clump,  riding  up  to  vast  walls  that  bar 
our  way,  straight,  smooth,  and  high  ?     How  is  it  possible  to  pene- 


4I4  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

trate  them  ?     Yet  as  we  approach  them  they  vanish,  or  move  back 
to  a  more  defiant  position. 

It  is  the  mist  of  midnight,  or  of  sleep,  that  plays  such  fantastic 
tricks  with  my  eyes  and  with  the  scenery.  Which?  Lights  glim- 
mer in  front ;  surely  these  are  the  city  lamps.  They  come  near, 
and  disappear  in  approaching,  either  as  will-o'-the-wisps  or  as 
camp-fires.  Again  is  darkness;  again  the  damp  mesquite  strikes 
the  dizzy  head  ;  again  the  walls,  high,  and  huge,  and  false,  arise  ; 
again  the  fires  flicker  and  go  out.  The  coachman  cries  "  Kutchah  ! 
Kutchah  !"  to  his  bedraggled  mules,  and  tells  me  we  are  almost 
there.  The  hours  drag  on,  and  so  does  the  coach.  I  think  of  the 
Light  that  shineth  in  a  dark  place,  and  wish  for  like  illumination. 
But  it  comes  not.  No  more  does  that  come  to  the  soul,  wading 
through  earth's  midnight.  How  that  soul  is  beset  with  false  guides, 
bewildering  lights,  fictitious  gates  and  walls,  and  still  is  out  in  the 
wet  woods  and  fields,  homeless  and  guideless.  What  a  lesson  that 
last  night  in  Mexico  taught  me  !  Never  shall  I  forget  it.  Through 
all  its  hours  I  watched  and  waited  on  the  top  of  that  coach.  It 
was  almost  day-break — four  of  the  clock — ere  the  real  gate  was 
touched,  the  real  city  entered.  The  guardsman  searches  sharp,  be- 
cause no  fee  is  offered.  The  mules  spurt  and  make  their  finish ; 
the  drowsy  clerk  of  the  hotel  is  not  too  drowsy  to  forget  how  to 
cheat.  A  score  of  dollars  is  my  due.  He  tries  to  pay  me  off  with 
worn-out  quarters  smoothed  to  twenty  cents  and  less.  I  protest. 
He  proffers  smooth  dollars.  I  still  protest.  He  declines  any 
better  currency.  Nervous  with  long  vigils,  and  anxious  to  get  to 
Brownsville  for  breakfast  and  a  couch,  I  entreat  better  treatment. 
He  is  incorrigible.  I  surrender,  and  snatch  with  a  benison  that 
burns,  not  blesses,  I  hope,  my  degenerate  dollars,  and  strike  for 
the  river.  The  stream  is  crossed  by  ferry  in  the  glowing  morning  ; 
Mexico  is  clone. 

Matamoras  and  Brownsville  represent  in  name  as  in  nature  the 
two  civilizations.  The  nomenclature  of  Mexico  is  soft,  flowing, 
enervating  ;  that  of  America,  short,  sharp,  energetic.  Matamoras 
in  pronunciation  is  like  lotus-eating ;  Brownsville  like   the  crack 


5?    BVownsville 
—      Matamoras 


tl    'i.r-.N.V. 


Lone  "  r Wmniseton 


THE   ITINERARY — FROM    VERA   CRUZ   TO    MATAMOKAS. 


TWO   CIVILIZATIONS.  4I7 

of  a  pistol.  So  are  the  civilizations  they  represent.  Idle  and  in- 
curious, letting  things  go  as  they  come,  is  the  one  ;  obtrusive  and 
ever-moulding  is  the  other.  The  cities  are  like  their  nations.  The 
old-style  house,  barred  windows,  barred  gate -way,  narrow  street, 
dead  wall,  plastered  and  tinted,  is  Matamoras  ;  open  windows,  nar- 
row door-ways,  no  coach-doors,  no  city  walls  nor  gates,  wooden 
houses,  painted  sometimes,  wide  streets  :  Yankee  of  Yankees  is 
Brownsville.  The  two,  when  blended  and  built  up  in  Christ,  will 
be  a  beauty  and  strength,  husband  and  wife,  one  "  entire  and  per- 
fect chrysolite." 


4i8  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


XIV. 

THE  FINISH 

Coach,  not  Couch. —  A  new  Tread-mill. —  Rascality  of  a  Sub-treasurer. —  The 
same  Country,  but  another  Driver. —  Live-oak  versus  Mesquite. —  A  sandy 
Desert  as  large  as  Massachusetts. — Not  a  complete  Desert. — A  dirty,  but  hos- 
pitable Rancho. — Thousands  of  Cattle  on  no  Hill. — A  forty-mile  Fence. — A 
Patch  of  four  hundred  square  Miles. — Mr.  King's  Rancho  and  Pluck. — Perils. 
— Mr.  Murdock's  Murder. — Corpus  Christi. — Indianola. — Good-bye. 

It  was  a  coach,  and  not  a  couch,  that  awaited  me.  Neither  beef- 
steak nor  bed,  on  each  of  which  I  was  so  much  doting,  did  I  see  or 
feel  or  taste  in  Brownsville.  Reaching  the  hotel,  I  find  a  few  serv- 
ants just  opening  and  sweeping  its  hall  ;  for  the  time  of  breakfast 
is  not  yet.  Inquiring  as  to  the  best  means  of  reaching  Galves- 
ton, I  learn  that  no  steamer  is  due  for  a  day  or  two,  and  it  will  be 
several  days  before  she  leaves.  A  stage  is  to  leave  for  Corpus 
Christi  in  a  few  moments.  It  will  reach  there  to-morrow  night. 
Thence  I  can  catch  a  mail-boat  for  Indianola,  perhaps  a  steamer, 
and  so  swing  round  to  Galveston. 

It  seems  strange  that  one  on  a  stage-coach  for  three  weeks 
should  crave  it  again  so  soon.  But  Holmes  describes  a  tread-mill 
prisoner  who  was  so  pleased  with  his  punishment  that  he  deter- 
mined, at  his  release,  to  "have  a  round  or  two  for  fun,"  and,  after 
he  had  got  home,  to  set  up  "a  tread-mill  of  his  own."  I  have  no 
expectation  of  going  into  the  stage  business  myself;  but  I  did  feel 
so  glad  at  escaping  from  that  three  weeks'  imprisonment  in  a  toss- 
ing, racking,  galloping  prison,  that  I  felt  willing  to  add  nearly  two 
hundred  miles  more  to  it,  and  not  hesitatingly  mounted  the  coach 
of  rest. 

Two  things  helped  forward  this  feeling — a  dislike  of  the  sea,  and 


A   KNAVISH  AGENT.  4I9 

the  fact  that  I  was  moving  homeward ;  so,  like  every  other  motive 

or  act,  it  was  mixed. 

"Joy  and  moan 
Melt  into  one." 

This  is  a  new  route,  hardly  yet  opened.  The  first  change  no- 
ticeable was  not  in  the  country,  but  in  the  drivers  and  driving. 
The  country  remained  the  same.  The  Rio  Grande  is  no  more  a 
natural  boundary  than  the  St.  Lawrence.  The  same  woods  of  mes- 
quite  ;  the  same  cactus  (called  here  prickly-pear),  with  its  varied 
and  rich  blossoming  of  crimson,  yellow,  and  many-tinted  hues  ;  the 
same  humbler  but  not  less  beautiful  flowers — these  testified  to  a 
common  country.  The  fields  grew  a  little  more  open,  but  not  vast- 
ly different  from  those  the  other  side  of  the  tiny  stream  which  I 
had  traveled  beside  for  a  day  and  a  half,  and  only  seen  a  corner  of 
once,  and  the  narrow,  muddy  brook  which  I  crossed  at  Matamoras. 
But  the  driving  told  me  that  I  was  in  a  new  country.  The  four 
large  horses,  the  calm  driver,  the  unused  whip,  the  unheard  screech 
and  yell,  the  square,  steady  trot,  no  spurts  of  a  run  and  long  blanks 
of  walking,  hardly  even  walking,  the  absence  of  mozos  and  stones, 
were  all  new  features  in  horsemanship.  The  intelligent  driver 
talked  mildly,  and  showed  also  the  calming  influence  of  character 
and  success.  These  elements  grow  with  success,  and  America  is 
fast  becoming  as  phlegmatic  as  England  or  any  other  well-to-do 
people. 

I  had  been  a  little  excited  at  Matamoras.  The  administrador,  or 
agent,  of  the  Diligence  Company  had  put  upon  me,  despite  my  pro- 
test, a  lot  of  smooth  and  cheapened  silver,  what  was  left  of  my  de- 
posit in  Mexico.  Fortunately,  it  was  only  ten  dollars.  It  was  a 
rascally  robbery,  and  I  urge  all  who  cross  the  country  to  take  up 
their  deposit,  what  remains  of  it,  at  Comargo.  It  is  a  good  way  of 
traveling,  as  you  can  put  your  money  in  the  office  at  Mexico,  and 
draw  it  out  at  every  place  where  you  stop  for  the  night,  what  you 
wish  of  it.  But  do  not  leave  any  of  it  for  the  man  at  Matamoras. 
S(  fior  Don  Rumaldo,  I  think  they  call  him  ;  mal do,a.  giver  of  evil, 
he  surely  is.     He  attempted  lO  shove  forty  quarters  on  me,  not  six 


420  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

of  which  could  show  both  faces,  and  most  could  show  none,  and 
some  never  were  worth  more  than .  pistareens,  or  twenty  cents. 
When  these  were  refused,  he  denied  he  had  any  more  money,  but 
afterward  offered  a  chipped  gold-piece.  This  could  not  be  changed. 
He  then  offered  ten  dollars,  only  two  of  which  were  of  full  weight. 
This,  of  course,  would  have  prevented  the  sale  of  the  silver  at  its 
full  value.  He  was  robbing  the  depositors,  and  should  be  instant- 
ly removed.     The  other  agents  acted  excellently. 

I  had  to  run  to  catch  the  coach  after  this  vexing  debate,  had 
been  up  all  night,  and  had  no  chance  even  for  a  cup  of  coffee  or  a 
cup  of  milk  ;  so  I  was  not  in  the  best  of  conditions.  But  a  glass 
of  cold  water,  buttered  rolls  (butter  had  been  a  thing  unknown  for 
weeks),  and  a  good  nap  put  me  to  rights. 

The  country  became  more  open,  and  cattle  began  to  becloud  the 
broad  prairies.  The  woods  changed  from  the  light,  thin -leafed 
mesquite  to  the  dark,  thick,  short,  John-Bull  leaf  of  the  live-oak,  an 
evergreen  of  beauty  in  this  spring-time ;  how  much  more  in  the 
yellowness  of  winter !  It  stands  in  groups  and  bunches  on  the 
open  sea  of  grass,  at  times  stepping  out  by  itself  to  show  us  how 
perfectly  it  can  round  itself  into  shape  when  it  takes  the  notion. 
Then  it  is  almost  as  lovely  as  a  New  England  elm  or  a  New  York 
maple.  I  have  not  yet  seen  the  Southern  rival  of  these  twain,  nor 
the  Western,  unless  this  live-oak  be  he.  It  comes  near  it — so  round, 
so  compact,  so  green.     It  is  handsome  enough,  anyway. 

Half-way  of  the  trip  we  cross  a  sandy  desert,  forty  miles  wide  ; 
and,  with  the  passion  for  push  that  possesses  the  modern  traveler, 
the  slow  dragging  of  the  horses  over  it  seems  like  a  forty  years' jour- 
ney in  the  wilderness.  It  takes  all  the  night,  and  more.  From 
five  at  evening  to  nine  in  the  morning  we  pull  through  this  heavy 
sand.  But  this  soil  is  not  barren  after  the  Israelitish  pattern. 
Rains  keep  it  moist,  and  certain  black  specks  in  it  keep  it  rich. 
Is  black  always  the  base  of  richness  ?  Greenness,  therefore,  does 
not  desert  it,  nor  cattle,  nor  live-oaks,  nor  flowers.  Some  of  the 
finest  groups  of  trees  are  on  this  space,  which  is  as  wide  and 
long  as  the  State  of  Massachusetts,  and  yet  hardly  noticed  in  this 


GREAT  HERDS   OF  CATTLE.  42i 

State,  forty  times  her  size.  Many  beautiful  flowers  cover  it.  I 
gathered  over  a  dozen  different  varieties  round  one  rancho,  and 
comforted  and  strengthened  the  wavering  heart  with  that  apostolic 
promise,  "  If  God  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the  field,  which  to-day  is 
and  to-morrow  is  cast  into  the  oven,  shall  he  not  much  more  clothe 
you,  O  ye  of  little  faith  ?"  These  lovely  grasses  of  purple,  and  scar- 
let, and  blue,  and  pink,  and  lustrous  white,  and  golden  yellow,  and 
variegated,  how  brief  their  life  !  That  beautiful  soul  far  surpasses 
these  creatures  in  original  excellence,  infinitely  more  surpasses  it 
in  that  its  clay  is  eternal. 

It  is  hard  sometimes  to  realize  this,  as  you  step  into  one  of  these 
dirty  ranchos  and  see  these  unwashed,  uncombed,  almost  undress- 
ed women  and  children,  and  imagine  the  change  that  Christ  would 
make  if  fairly  seated  in  their  hearts.  He  will  come,  and  the  flow- 
er that  fades  be  excelled,  even  at  its  beginning,  by  the  flower  that 
grows  in  beauty  forever  and  forever.  They  are  kind  and  hospita- 
ble now.  How  generously  a  mother  and  three  girl-children,  who 
seemed  to  have  never  known  a  comb  or  a  towel,  feasted  me  on 
thick  milk  and  delicious  coffee,  and  Spanish  chats  and  smiles! 
Won't  they  take  to  Sunday-schools  and  all  their  cleanly  accompa- 
niments, when  they  get  out  of  their  Spanish  and  their  Romanism 
into  the  light  of  English  and  Protestantism  ? 

The  fields  show  great  herds  of  many  cattle  feeding.  Words- 
worth thought,  when  he  said,  "  There  are  forty  feeding  like  one," 
that  he  was  describing  a  good-sized  herd.  What  would  he  have 
said  had  he  seen  these  hundreds  and  thousands?  The  prairies, 
rolling  slightly,  and  dipping  clown  into  the  sky  on  every  side,  are 
sprinkled  with  kine.  There  are  thousands  feeding  like  one.  Well, 
it  is  only  multiplication.  He  first  said,  if  he  did  not  first  see,  the 
fact  of  the  silent  feeding  of  great  flocks  and  herds.  The  prairies 
would  have  amazed  him  more  than  the  cattle.  That  forty,  to  his 
petty  and  pretty  Rydal  meadows,  were  vastly  more  than  these  hun- 
dreds to  these  prairies,  actually  boundless  to  the  eye.  They  are  lost 
on  the  ocean.  The  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills  are  here  transformed 
into  thousands  of  cattle  on  level  plains. 


422  OUR   NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

Near  noon  we  drive  near  a  fence,  the  first  I  had  seen,  save  of  the 
corral  sort  for  the  coach  horses.  "  That  fence  is  forty  miles  long," 
says  an  employe  of  the  road  on  the  coach.  Our  Mexican  driver 
(we  have  changed  drivers)  knows  only  to  lash  and  scold  his  horses, 
run  them  and  walk  them  by  frequent  turns.  "  Forty  miles  now  ; 
that  is  its  beginning.  It  will  include  twenty  miles  square  when 
finished."  The  owner  is  Mr.  King.  We  enter  the  gate,  itself  near- 
ly a  mile  from  the  house,  which  looks  close  by,  and  drive  to  the 
barn.  Mr.  King  generously  provides  a  cold  cut  of  beef  and  cold 
cup  of  milk — rarities  indeed.  He  has  about  sixty  thousand  cattle, 
and  ten  thousand  horses  and  mules.  He  will  get  them  all  in  his 
"patch"  when  the  fence  is  completed,  which  will  be,  he  says,  sev- 
enty miles  in  length.  He  intends  to  improve  his  stock,  and  will 
slaughter  twenty  thousand  this  fall,  to  make  way  for  the  better 
quality.  He  keeps  a  hundred  men  racing  down  these  herds,  which 
are  now  wandering  all  the  way  from  the  Rio  Grande  to  Austin. 
That  is  a  specimen  of  the  stock-breeding  of  the  country.  He  is 
one  of  many  such — only  two  or  three  quite  as  big,  and  only  one 
bigger — Mr.  Conner,  who  has  not  less  than  one  hundred  thousand 
cattle.  A  passenger  had  smiled  an  "Ah  Sin"  smile  when  I  spoke 
of  a  hacienda  in  Mexico  with  its  five  thousand  cattle  and  forty 
thousand  sheep.     I  saw  it  now. 

They  say  Mr.  King's  life  is  threatened  by  the  Mexicans  ;  but  he 
is  brave  and  daring.  Once  they  shot  at  his  ambulance,  and  killed 
a  German  on  the  box  with  the  driver.  His  house  is  an  open  one, 
broad  veranda,  one  story,  wood — excellent  for  a  fire,  if  the  Mexic 
is  so  disposed.  But  he  would  sell  his  life  dearly,  and  they  do  not 
want  to  buy  at  such  rates  ;  so  he  will  probably  live  a  while  yet. 

Not  far  this  side,  a  small  fenced  inclosure,  with  trees  and  gar- 
dens, was  the  abode  of  Mr.  Murdoch,  who  in  the  autumn  of  '72 
was  caught  in  bed  by  these  savages,  chained  down,  covered  with 
tar  and  kerosene,  and  the  house  set  on  fire.  He  was  an  easy  prey 
to  the  flames.  So  these  prairies  are  not  Paradise,  except  as  it  was 
after  the  devil  entered  it. 

Corpus  Christi  receives  us  at  night -fall.     It  is  a  live,  pretty 


POINT  OF  DEPARTURE  REACHED.  ,  423 

town,  lifted  up  slightly  from  a  livelier  and  prettier  bay.  It  is  only 
a  night  we  stop  there.  The  mail-boat  thence  to  Indianola  drops 
down  the  bay  at  six  in  the  morning.  The  wind  is  splendid,  and 
the  run  also.  The  boat  sits  on  the  wave  without  a  wave.  The 
breeze  is  as  soft  and  warm  as  it  is  strong ;  so  the  more  of  it  the 
better.  I  hoped  it  would  get  us  to  Rockport  before  the  steamer 
left,  but  I  was  out  of  luck.  The  stars  began  to  fight  the  other  way. 
I  had  made  every  connection  up  to  this  time  ;  now  I  was  to  make 
none.  The  steamer  left  just  before  we  arrived.  She  passed  us, 
majestically  scornful.  Another  left  Indianola  just  before  we  came 
in  sight.  So  we  were  left  stranded  at  that  port  for  a  day,  when  the 
steamer  transported  us  to  Galveston,  and  so  to  New  Orleans,  our 
point  of  departure.  The  path  to  our  door  is  reached.  Let  us 
shake  hands,  and  Good-bye. 

2S 


424.  OUR   M.XTDOOR   NEIGHBOR. 


XV. 

CHRISTIAN  WORK  IN  MEXICO. 

Not  yet. — The  First  Last. — A  Telegram  and  its  Meaning. — Perils  and  Perplexi- 
ties of  Church  purchasing. — Temptation  resisted. — Success  and  Dedication. 
— Cure  Hidalgo  and  his  Revolution. — Iturbide  and  Intolerance. — Beginning 
of  the  End.— The  Mexican  War,  and  its  Religious  Effects.— The  Bible  and  the 
Preacher. — The  first  Revolt  from  Romanism. — Abolition  of  Property  and  of 
Institutions.— Invasion  of  the  Papacy  through  France  and  Maximilian. — Ex- 
pulsion thereof  through  America  and  Juarez. — The  Constitutionalists  the 
first  Preachers.— The  first  Martyr  :  "  Viva  Jesus  !  Viva  Mexico  !"— Francisco 
Aguilar  and  the  first  Church. — The  Bible  and  his  Death.— First  Appeal 
abroad. — Response. — Rev.  Dr.  Riley  and  his  Work. — Excitement,  Peril,  Prog- 
ress.— President  Juarez,  the  first  Protestant  President.  —  The  chief  native 
Apostle,  Manual  Aguas. — His  Excommunication  by  and  of  the  Archbishop. — 
A  powerful  Attack  on  the  Church. — His  Death. — The  Entrance  of  the  Amer- 
ican Churches  in  their  own  Form. — Their  present  Status. — The  first  Ameri- 
can Martyr,  Stephens  ;  and  how  he  was  butchered. — San  Andres. — Govern- 
mental Progress. — The  Outlook. — Postfatory. 

Not  quite  yet  Good-bye.  A  journey  undertaken  solely  for 
Church  purposes  should  not  omit  the  consideration  of  that  work 
from  its  pages.  It  has  not  been  largely  thrust  into  the  body  of 
the  work,  brief  and  infrequent  references  only  having  been  made 
to  the  subject.  The  aim  has  been  to  give  a  transcript  of  the  land 
and  people,  apart  from  all  especial  views  or  ends,  so  that  those 
who  sought  light  upon  the  country  or  sought  the  country  itself 
should  not  have  too  much,  to  them,  extraneous  matter  set  before 
them.  It  seemed  better  to  put  such  matter  in  a  chapter  by  itself, 
so  that  those  who  wished  it  not  might  avoid  the  dish  entirely,  and 
those  who  wished  for  it  might  enjoy  it  all  by  itself.  At  the  risk 
of  slight  repetitions  in  minor  points,  let  us  glance  at  the  story  of 
Christian  Work  in  Mexico,  and  put  that  which  was  first  in  its  ap- 
propriate place,  the  last. 


CHURCH  OF   SAN'    FRANCISCO,  CITY   OF   MEXICO. 


DIFFICULT  NEGOTIATIONS.  427 

At  the  very  close  of  the  journey,  in  the  little  village  of  San  An- 
tonio, where  the  grateful  husband  acknowledges  the  lordship  of  his 
lady  in  the  painted  confession  along  the  ceiling  of  his  casa,  I  re- 
ceived a  telegram,  which  drew  my  eyes  and  soul  far  away  from  the 
handsome  family,  obedient  husband,  and  horrible  breakfast.  It 
was  an  electric  shock  in  which  was  more  than  magnetic  currents ; 
for  it  foretold  a  future  of  unmeasured  and  immeasurable  vastness, 
a  future  of  spiritual  currents  of  divine  magnetism,  that  shall  per- 
meate, thrill,  revive,  and  renew  this  whole  .land.  Its  enigmatic 
words  were  these  :  "  Puebla  business  closed.  Mexico  will  be  to- 
day." 

The  brief  line  was  inexpressibly  grateful;  for  doubt  had  hung 
over  the  last  purchase.  Foes  were  many  and  sharp.  One  effort 
had  failed  through  treachery,  a  priest  appearing  before  the  judge 
the  day  the  papers  were  to  be  passed,  and  getting  the  property 
(the  Church  of  Santa  Inez,  then  used  as  a  cotton  warehouse)  trans- 
ferred to  minor  heiresses,  and  another  portion  of  the  estate  set  off 
to  the  youth  to  whom  this  church  had  been  already  assigned,  and 
who  was  going  to  sell  it  to  us.  What  might  happen  between 
the  beginning  of  the  effort  to  purchase  these  more  central  quarters 
and  its  completion,  even  to  the  frustration  of  that  completion,  it 
was  impossible  to  tell.  Had  any  priest  suspected  the  possibility 
of  this  attempt,  every  member  of  his  guild,  and,  primarily,  its  pri- 
mate, the  archbishop,  would  have  put  forth  every  effort  to  have 
prevented  success. 

And  such  efforts  could  have  hardly  failed  of  success  ;  for  there 
were  so  many  parties  to  negotiate  with,  that  it  seemed  well-nigh 
impossible  to  preserve  the  secret.  The  real  owner  was  in  Paris. 
His  administrador  was  a  warm  Papist.  The  holder  of  the  first 
mortgage  was  a  widow  lady,  residing  in  San  Luis  Potosi.  The 
holder  of  the  second  mortgage  was  a  carpenter  in  the  city.  Be- 
sides these  proprietary  interests,  a  person  held  it  under  a  written 
lease  for  two  years,  for  a  theatre.  Here  were  four,  if  not  five,  par- 
ties to  be  consulted  ;  for  possibly  the  administrador  might  not  have 
power  to  sell  without  a  legal  authorization  from  the  actual  owner. 


42S  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

A  more  perilous  adventure  was  never  more  successfully  executed  ; 
thanks,  and  thanks  only,  under  God,  to  the  sagacity  and  shrewd- 
ness and  patient  push  of  Ur.  Julius  A.  Skilton,  our  consul-general, 
James  Sullivan,  Esq.,  and  Senor  Mendez,  their  attorney.  To  them 
the  whole  business  was  intrusted.  A  glance  at  the  spacious  quar- 
ters on  the  Monday  after  my  arrival,  which  was  the  previous  Satur- 
day night,  was  sufficient.  I  have  never  seen  them  since.  I  hardly 
dared  glance  at  them  as  I  passed  the  street,  for  fear  some  Jesuit 
looker-on  might  notice  a  too  fond  expression  in  the  eyes,  and  re- 
port the  danger  to  the  high-priest.  So  great  is  this  peril,  that  Bish- 
op Keener,  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  who  was  at 
the  same  time  negotiating  for  suitable  quarters,  informed  me  that 
he  had  made  his  selection,  but  only  by  riding  by  the  place  in  a  car- 
riage, he  not  daring  to  inspect  it  more  thoroughly.  I  regret  to  add 
that  he  failed  in  securing  this  spot,  perhaps  because  the  man  he 
rode  with  or  the  man  who  drove  him  was  in  his  secret,  and  put  the 
priest  on  the  track.  The  difficulties  in  my  case  were  increased  by 
the  distance  at  which  the  first  mortgagee  lived,  and  the  fact  that 
it  was  a  lady  who  held  the  claim  as  a  portion  of  her  husband's 
estates.  She  must  be  corresponded  with  in  the  slow  process  of 
the  mail.  A  telegram  would  have  quickened  her  fears  and  her 
covetousness.  She  must  consult  her  compadre  and  all  her  family. 
The  least  conception  that  it  was  being  bought  for  the  Protestants 
would  have  probably  cut  off  all  negotiations  at  the  start,  or  would 
certainly  have  leaked  out  and  cut  them  off  very  soon  thereafter. 

The  lessee  was  left  out  of  the  transaction.  His  case  would  have 
to  be  managed  after  the  purchase  was  completed.  The  other  three 
parties  were  slowly  and  softly  approached,  and  after  nearly  three 
months  from  the  date  of  that  ten  minutes'  visit,  and  the  issuing 
thereupon  of  the  order  to  secure,  if  possible,  the  property,  I  had 
the  supreme  satisfaction  of  receiving  the  above  telegram  at  the 
hot  and  dusty  and  desolate  San  Antonio.  Is  it  any  wonder  the 
spot  blossomed  into  beauty?  The  white  dust  turned  to  lilies.  The 
hot  sun  tempered  its  blaze  seemingly  to  the  most  genial  warmth. 
Perhaps   this   event   increased   the  comeliness   of  the  family,  and 


A   BRIBE  SPURNED.  43I 

made  Peg  of  San  Antonio  more  beautiful  than  she  really  was.  It 
was  not  powerful  enough  to  transform  the  almuerzo  into  a  break- 
fast of  delights.     There  were  limits  to  even  its  ability. 

The  end  of  the  journey  and  its  objective  end  are  reached  at  one 
and  the  same  time.  The  cause  of  our  coming  puts  its  doxology 
and  benediction  in  at  the  end  of  our  going.  Against  unseen  and 
unnumbered  foes,  against  Mexican  procrastination,  against  possi- 
ble treachery,  against  perils  without  and  fears  within,  success  is 
assured. 

How  great  this  peril  was,  a  single  fact  illustrated.  Mr.  Sullivan 
was  approached,  the  very  day  he  had  consummated  the  purchase, 
and  when  he  yet  held  the  titles  in  his  own  name,  by  the  leading 
native  broker  of  the  city  with  an  offer  of  five  thousand  dollars  for 
his  bargain.  The  offer  was  undoubtedly  from  a  higher  source,  for 
the  property  had  laid  idle  for  years,  and  was  of  no  possible  use  to 
the  broker,  there  being  acres  of  like  convent  ruins  at  his  com- 
mand over  all  the  city.  It  was  instigated  by  the  archbishop,  un- 
doubtedly, who  had  watched  the  coming  and  going  of  these  invad- 
ing ministers,  and  who  had  supposed  as  they  left  the  city,  with  no 
possessions  secured,  their  mission  had  failed,  and  who  only  woke 
up  to  the  fact  after  their  departure,  when,  the  papers  having  all 
been  passed,  it  was  allowed  to  creep  forth  that  this  Irish  gentle- 
man, the  fear  of  every  brigand,  whom  he  had  more  than  once  made 
to  know  the  accuracy  of  his  shot,  and  whose  protection  at  El  Desi- 
erto  showed  like  skill  and  pluck,  the  successful  rebosa  manufac- 
turer and  silver  operator,  had  bought  this  central  and  spacious  prop- 
erty for  a  Protestant  Church. 

But  he  mistook  his  man.  The  splendid  bribe  was  spurned,  and 
in  due  time  the  property  was  transferred  to  the  real  owners.  It 
was  soon  fixed  up  as  the  residence  for  its  missionary,  school  for 
girls,  and  the  beautiful  audience-room  of  the  Trinity  Church.  The 
Christmas  following  saw  the  joyful  consummation  of  this  undertak- 
ing in  the  dedication  of  this  church  by  the  services  of  Rev.  Drs. 
Butler,  Carter,  Cooper,  Ramirez,  Guerro,  and  Sefiors  Hernando, 
Pascoe,  and  Morales.     A  large  audience  filled  its  handsome  audi- 


432  OCR   X EXT- DOOR   NEIGHBOR. 

torium.  The  dome  of  wood  and  glass  lifted  itself  over  the  once 
open  patio,  erected  by  the  first  purchaser  for  his  circus  performers. 
Screens  inclosed  the  area  behind  the  pillars.  The  desk  and  plat- 
form and  melodeon,  with  its  simple  style  of  sacred  service,  reminded 
the  auditors  that  a  new  day  had  dawned  in  Mexico,  or,  at  least, 
that  a  new  hour  of  the  clay  had  struck.  That  day  began  to  dawn 
and  to  shine  before  this  glad  hour  arrived.  Other  men  labored, 
and  we  were  entering  into  their  labors,  not  in  any  spirit  of  envy 
or  strife,  but  with  a  desire  for  their  enlargement,  and  with  a  pur- 
pose to  unite  with  them  in  common  love  and  labor  for  the  recov- 
ery of  this  heritage  to  our  common  Lord  and  Master. 

The  Church  planted  by  Cortez  on  the  ruins  of  the  Aztec  super- 
stition, with  its  horror  of  human  sacrifices,  existed  unchallenged,  so 
far  as  organized  effort  went,  over  three  hundred  years.  From  1523, 
when  Zaragossa,  appointed  to  the  headship  of  the  Mexican  Church, 
two  years  after  the  subjugation  of  the  state,  had  exterminated  the  an- 
cient worship,  unto  1823,  there  had  not  been  an  organized,  hardly  a 
visible  protesting  to  the  absolute  sovereignty  of  that  Church.  Men 
had  been  burned  at  the  stake,  but  more  because  they  were  Jews  and 
Portuguese  than  as  heretics,  though  heresy  was  the  charge  under 
which  they  were  slain.  The  native  had  no  disposition  in  his  peon- 
age to  assert  his  religious  liberty,  not  even  his  civil.  And  but  few 
Spaniards  ever  emerged  into  the  heights  of  faith  and  of  martyr- 
dom ;  though  undoubtedly  some,  brethren  of  those  whom  Torque- 
mada  burned  in  Spain,  avowed  here  like  precious  faith,  and  re- 
ceived like  honored  torture  and  burning. 

Out  of  sheer  malice  they  slew  those  that  dared  profess  a  higher 
and  better  faith  ;  nay,  they  slew  them  on  suspicion  of  such  faith. 
The  history  of  the  Inquisition  in  Mexico  remains  to  be  written. 
We  hope  some  missionary  or  native  Christian  will  give  to  the  world 
the  story  of  this  tribunal  from  year  to  year,  its  victims  and  its 
crimes. 

In  181 1  the  Cure  Hidalgo  raised  the  standard  of  independence 
from  Spain  ;  but  though  of  the  priesthood,  he  had  no  countenance 
from  the  Church  ;  and  so,  after  terrible  slaughter,  his  enterprise  fail- 


AN  UNEQUAL    TREATY.  433 

ed.  He  is  remembered  now,  and  a  superb  statue  of  heroic  size, 
"in  form  and  gesture  proudly  eminent,"  stands  in  the  walls  of  the 
Church  of  San  Francisco,  executed  by  two  young  brothers,  await- 
ing its  transfer  into  marble  or  bronze.  It  is  most  apt  and  fit  that 
the  moulded  form  of  this  earliest  hero  of  emancipation  and  inde- 
pendence should  be  placed  in  the  walls  of  a  church  which  has 
also  secured  its  independence  from  an  oppressive  and  foreign 
faith. 

The  cause  of  independence  lay  sleeping,  but  not  dead,  for  a  doz- 
en years,  when  the  General,  Iturbide,  who  had  been  chief  in  sup- 
pressing the  revolt,  headed  it,  and  made  it  a  speedy  and  almost 
bloodless  triumph.  But  he  succeeded  because  he  recognized  the 
supreme  authority  of  the  Church.  His  declaration  of  independ- 
ence began  after  the  Jeffersonian  sort :  "  Mexico  is  and  of  a  right 
ou^ht  to  be  free  from  the  throne  of  Spain."  His  second  declara- 
tion  how  different:  "The  Roman  Catholic  Church  is  the  religion 
of  the  state,  and  no  other  shall  be  tolerated."  Had  that  been  in 
our  Declaration,  our  path  upward  had  been  equally  slow  and 
bloody.  It,  however,  secured  him  the  alliance  of  the  Church,  and 
was  a  wise  political  measure,  viewed  in  the  exigencies  of  the  mo- 
ment ;  unwise,  viewed  in  the  light  of  the  future. 

So  rigidly  was  this  state  of  intolerance  maintained,  that  in  a 
treaty  made  with  our  Government  ten  or  twelve  years  after,  while 
we  granted  perfect  liberty  of  worship  to  their  citizens  resident  in 
our  territory,  Mexico  granted  such  liberty  to  ours  only  in  their  own 
private  residences,  and  then  "  provided  that  such  worship  was  not 
injurious  to  interests  of  state."  And  that  treaty,  I  am  told,  on 
high  official  authority,  remains  unmodified  to  this  day;  so  that  now, 
were  Romanism  in  power,  it  could  suppress  even  private  worship  in 
an  American  family,  and  there  could  be  no  redress  under  our  treaty 
stipulations.  So  rigid  was  the  grasp  of  the  Church  over  the  whole 
state. 

The  first  ray  that  shot  its  solitary  light  across  the  dark  was  the 
bold  act  of  Mr.  Black  in  burying  the  poor  shoe-maker,  assassinated 
for  not  sufficiently  respecting  a  kneeling  Mexican's  prejudices,  in 


434  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

his  prostration  before  the  passing  priest  and  wafer.*  This  occur- 
red in  the  year  of  Iturbide's  successful  revolution  against  Spain 
and  more  successful  subjugation  to  Rome.  But  the  real  gray  of 
the  dawn  was  the  American  war,  twenty-three  years  after  the  proc- 
lamation of  dependence  as  well  as  of  independence.  Before  that 
event  not  an  open  Bible  could  have  been  seen  in  the  whole 
realm,  which  then  included  California,  Nevada,  Colorado,  up  to, 
if  not  across,  the  line  of  the  Pacific  Railway;  nor  could  a  min- 
ister conduct  worship  other  than  after  the  form  of  the  Roman 
Church. 

That  war  carried  the  Bible  and  the  Protestant  Church  into  Mex- 
ico. The  soldiers  brought  the  Book  in  their  knapsacks  or  pock- 
ets, and  falling  out  by  the  way,  through  cowardice,  capture,  or  sick- 
ness, they  dropped  this  seed  of  the  Gospel  along  these  new  paths. 
They  could  easily  talk  with  the  natives  after  a  few  weeks,  and  in 
their  hours  of  sickness,  sometimes  unto  death,  they  translated  its 
lender  words  into  the  common  tongue.  Thus  the  thirsty  peon 
tasted  the  first  drop  of  the  Water  of  Life.  Then,  too,  the  Bible 
Society  sent  its  agents  with  the  armies,  who  carried  and  scattered 
the  Word  wherever  the  troops  marched.  I  have  met  with  sev- 
eral since  my  return  who  engaged  in  this  work  under  the  shelter 
of  our  flag. 

Besides  the  sowing  of  the  seed  in  this  form,  was  the  more  notice- 
able though  not  more  valuable  revelation  of  it  in  the  shape  of  pub- 
lic worship.  To  that  hour,  no  Mexican  in  his  own  land  had  seen 
any  Christian  worship,  except  the  celebration  of  the  mass  and  its 
attendant  ceremonies.  The  gaudy  array  of  the  priests,  the  mum- 
blings in  an  unknown  tongue,  the  prostration  before  a  carved  im- 
age, the  uplifting  of  the  Bread  and  Body  of  God,  the  swinging  of 
incense,  and  ringing  of  bells,  and  beating  of  breasts,  and  wailings 
of  people,  and  mournful  and  triumphal  music  of  the  organ  and 
choir — this  was  their  only  daily  food.  The  extras  were  after  the 
same  sort :  preaching  that  fostered  the  follies  of  superstition  and 

*  See  page  257. 


THE   CAUSE   OF  CONQUEST.  435 

fed  the  fires  of  persecution,  and  processions  that  made  the  materi- 
alized service  more  material. 

It  was  a  new  sight,  the  standing  of  a  gentleman  in  the  garb  of  a 
gentleman,  among  soldiers  and  civilians,  the  reading  of  a  hymn  in 
their  own  language  which  all  join  in  singing,  the  utterance  of  a 
prayer  in  the  same  language,  in  which  all  reverently  bow  and  join, 
the  reading  of  the  Bible  in  their  own  tongue,  and  the  deliverance 
of  a  discourse  upon  its  passages  ;  only  this,  and  nothing  more. 
They  had  never  seen  it  after  this  fashion.  A  gentleman  said  to 
me,  "The  first  time  I  ever  saw  Protestant  service  conducted  was 
in  the  palace  of  the  President,  by  the  chaplain  of  General  Scott." 

The  effect  of  this  was  heightened  from  its  being  performed  by 
these  foreign  invaders  and  conquerors  under  their  own  flag.  The 
inquiry  shot  from  mind  to  mind  and  heart  to  heart  of  the  on-gaz- 
ing multitudes,  what  is  the  new  mode  of  religion  ?  The  Spanish 
conqueror's  form  of  worship  was  no  greater  novelty  to  the  Aztec, 
than  the  American  conqueror's  was  to  the  Mexican.  And  each 
was  associated  with  the  victory  of  the  worshiper.  "  Had  this  relig- 
ion," they  were  compelled  to  ask,  "  any  thing  to  do  with  the  sudden 
and  complete  overthrow  of  our  armies  ?  Is  this  anti- Roman  faith 
so  much  greater  than  the  Roman,  that  a  dozen  thousand  men  can 
carry  the  fortified  and  well-defended  gorges  of  Cerro  Gordo,  march, 
over  the  volcano  passes,  storm  Chapultepec,  and  capture  the  city 
in  less  than  half  the  time  it  took  Cortez  to  subdue  the  land,  and 
that  against  a  people  of  our  own  European  nationality,  trained  in 
every  art  and  weapon  of  war  with  which  we  are  conversant  ?" 

What  can  the  answer  be,  but  that  the  cause  of  the  conquest  is 
Religion  ?  And  as  the  Montezuma  and  his  men  recognized  sadly 
that  their  faith  caused  their  overthrow,  so  the  rulers  of  Mexico  ac- 
knowledged that  like  slavery  was  the  reason  of  their  subjugation. 
So  will  France  yet  confess  that  it  is  her  religion  that  made  her 
sink  before  the  German  arms,  and  that  only  the  highest  faith  can 
produce  the  highest  race. 

The  revelation  of  this  conviction  appeared  in  a  very  few  years 
after  the  American  conquest.     Our  withdrawal  from  the  land  de- 


436  OCR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

layed  the  revelation  ;  but  it  came.  The  first  proclamation  of  inde- 
pendence from  Rome  was  made  by  Comonfort  in  1856,  less  than 
ten  years  after  our  coming  and  going.  The  Bible  had  been  allow- 
ed to  stay,  and  was  steadily,  though  slowly  and  almost  impercepti- 
bly, leavening  the  lump.  The  street  that  went  out  from  the  west- 
ern end  of  the  plaza,  parallel  with  the  Street  of  San  Francisco,  was 
intercepted  by  the  Convent  of  San  Francisco.  Comonfort  saw  that 
if  he  was  to  improve  the  city  anywhere,  it  must  be  begun  here. 
This  splendid  suite  of  buildings  must  be  pierced.  The  archbishop 
resisted.  "  Touch  that,  and  all  is  touched."  He  was  right.  He 
touched  that,  and  all  was  touched.  That  fell,  and  all  fell.  The 
convent  was  cut  in  twain,  and  the  street  opened  from  the  plaza  to 
the  gates.  That  was  Mexico's  first  proclamation  against  Rome. 
On  one  side  that  street  to-day  you  will  see  parks  and  dormitories 
of  the  convent ;  on  the  other,  the  patio,  chapel,  and  church,  with 
several  blocks  of  private  dwellings,  two  chapels,  used  for  a  stable 
and  a  blacksmith  shop,  and  the  former  library,  now  used  as  the 
chapel  for  American  service,  and  blocks  of  residences. 

That  was  the  key-note  of  the  revolution.  On  it  went,  sweeping 
out  the  friars  and  nuns,  and  cutting  their  superb  estates  in  pieces. 
It  was  Protestantism  in  the  State,  blindly  destroying,  but  not  build- 
ing up.* 

Juarez  followed  Comonfort,  and  the  war  prevailed  yet  more. 
Confiscations  of  convent  property  became  general.  Schools  were 
established  without  the  control  of  the  Church.  The  institutions 
of  friarhood  and  sisterhood  were  abolished,  and  the  claims  of  the 
Church,  formerly  loaned  on  the  estates  of  the  people,  were  declared 
of  none  effect.  As  this  claim  covered  almost  all  property,  it  was  a 
proclamation  of  universal  financial  emancipation.  The  disruption 
of  Church  and  State  was  violently  going  forward.  Had  no  relig- 
ious influence  come  in  to  build  up  a  better  Church  and  State,  that 
conflict  would  have  resulted  in  the  resubjugation  of  the  State  to 

*  See  Madame  Calderon  De  La  Barca,  for  animating  descriptions  of  these  in- 
stitutions at  the  height  of  their  prosperity,  hardly  forty  years  ago.  Her  travels 
are  still  the  best  description  of  the  people  and  their  pastimes. 


MEXICO'S  DELIVERANCE.  439 

the  Church,  as  has  always  been  the  case  in  France  and  Spain,  and, 
but  for  the  very  active  Protestantizing  of  Italy,  would  be  the  case 
there  also.  The  Church  saw  this,  and  took  advantage  of  our  civil 
war  to  revive  her  fallen  fortunes.  Maximilian  and  Carlolta,  two 
bigoted  Papists,  were  imported  and  upheld  by  the  arms  of  Napo- 
leon and  Eugenie,  the  last  the  most  bigoted  of  Papists,  in  order  to 
bring  the  State  again  at  the  feet  of  the  Church.  Not  Napoleon, 
but  Pius  IX.,  is  the  instigator  of  that  war.  He  who  alone  of  tem- 
poral sovereigns  recognized  our  slave  power  as  a  nation,  sought 
to  help  that  rebellion  to  succeed  by  getting  up  this  rebellion  in  a 
neighboring  state,  and  fostered  that  for  the  sake  of  making  this 
triumphant.  He  succeeded.  The  French  army  subdued  the  re- 
publican, and  from  Vera  Cruz  to  Paso  del  Norte  freedom  in  relig- 
ion and  in  government  went  down.     Rome  was  mistress  of  Mexico. 

Not  until  our  war  was  ended  did  the  Papal  dominion  cease. 
Juarez  enters,  Maximilian  is  captured,  and  justly  and  wisely  shot, 
and  Mexico  is  delivered  from  Rome,  as  she  had  been  nearly  half 
a  century  before  from  Spain.  Her  progress  from  that  hour  has 
been  steady  and  rapid.  But  this  progress  has  been  because  of  the 
increase  of  the  leavening  power  of  the  Bible  and  the  Church.  This 
has  a  story  of  its  own. 

Papers  lie  before  me,  prepared  by  a  Mexican  Protestant  at  the 
request  of  Rev.  Dr.  Riley,  which  give  the  story  of  the  rise  of  the 
true  Church.  From  this  imprinted  pamphlet  I  am  permitted  to 
make  up  this  narrative. 

It  declares  that  Mexico  was  groaning  under  the  hard  yoke  of 
the  Roman  clergy  ;  that  after  a  war  of  many  years,  and  after  long 
and  cruel  sufferings,  the  republican  government  was  established, 
and  freedom  of  religion.  "How  much  blood  was  shed,"  it  plaint- 
ively cries,  "in  settling  these  laws!  How  many  families  are  still 
weeping  for  their  fathers,  how  many  mothers  for  their  children, 
slain  in  the  wars  of  the  Reformation  !" 

After  the  first  election  of  Don  Benito  Juarez  to  the  Presidency, 
and  before  the  last  civil  war,  that  is  between  1858  and  1863,  some 
clergymen,  called  Constitutionalists,  established  a  new  worship  like 

29 


44o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

that  which  is  to-day  performed  by  the  anti-Romanists.  To  these 
ministers  the  President  gave  the  use  of  two  of  the  confiscated 
churches,  Mercy  and  the  Most  Holy  Trinity. 

When  the  French  came  in,  the  monarchical  government,  at  the 
instigation  of  the  priests,  seized  one  of  these  ministers,  and  having 
scraped  his  hands,  and  his  clerical  tonsure  on  the  top  of  his  head, 
in  order  to  degrade  him  of  his  priestly  character,  they  led  him  out  to 
execution.  When  about  to  be  shot,  seeing  the  rifles  leveled  at  his 
breast,  he  cried  out,  just  as  they  fired,  "  Viva  Jesus  !  Viva  Mexico  !" 
(Long  live  Jesus  !     Long  live  Mexico  !) 

This  vivid  expression  of  devotion  to  the  Lord  Christ  and  his 
country  is  the  inspiration  of  the  whole  movement.  The  scatter- 
ing of  the  Bible  resulted  in  the  conversion  of  Rev.  Francis  Agui- 
lar.  After  the  expulsion  of  the  French  in  1867,  he  opened  a  hall 
for  public  worship  in  San  Jose  de  Real,  in  the  old  convent  of  the 
Profesa.  He  was  the  first  preacher  of  the  true  faith.  His  meet- 
ings were  well  attended.  He  also  translated  a  book  entitled  "  Man 
and  the  Bible,"  which  had  a  large  circulation.  In  a  few  months 
he  became  sick  unto  death,  and  in  the  last  hour,  taking  his  Bible, 
pressing  it  tenderly  to  his  bosom,  he  said, "  I  find  in  this  peace  and 
happiness,"  and  fell  asleep  in  Jesus.  The  second  dying  witness 
was  as  serene  and  triumphant  as  the  first.  "Jesus,"  "the  Bible," 
were  their  several  words  of  victory.  Francisco  Aguilar  circulated 
the  Scriptures  with  great  zeal,  and  helped  greatly  to  extend  and 
establish  the  true  faith. 

On  his  death,  his  church,  being  without  a  pastor,  sent  a  commit- 
tee to  the  United  States  to  seek  aid  from  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church.  This  Church,  through  its  bishop  in  New  Orleans,  gave 
them  pecuniary  help,  but  could  not  aid  them  farther.  Rev.  H.  C. 
Riley,  a  native  of  Chili,  born  of  English  parents,  but  conversant  with 
the  language  from  his  birth,  was  preaching  at  that  time  to  a  Span- 
ish congregation  in  the  city  of  New  York.  He  listened  to  the  cry, 
gave  up  his  congregation,  and  in  the  spring  of  187 1  started  for  the 
country.  The  American  and  Foreign  Christian  Union  supplied 
means  for  the  furtherance  of  the  cause,  and  his  own  purse,  and  his 


PROGRESS   OF   THE    IVOR  A'.  44 1 

father's,  with  the  gifts  of  William  E.  Dodge  and  others,  gave  him 
the  necessary  sinews  for  the  war  upon  which  he  was  entering. 

That  war  quickly  broke  out.  Almost  as  soon  as  he  had  arrived 
and  taken  quarters  at  the  Hotel  Iturbide,  there  was  a  conspiracy 
formed  for  his  murder  in  that  very  hotel.  He  saw  the  band  meet- 
ing to  plot  against  his  life.  He  escaped  to  safer  and  less  notice- 
able quarters.  He  fought  fire  with  fire,  bringing  out  pamphlet  af- 
ter pamphlet,  the  first  of  which  was  called  "The  True  Liberty." 
He  wrote  and  arranged  many  of  the  hymns  and  tunes  that  are 
still  in  use.  He  also  prepared  a  book  of  worship,  with  Scripture 
readings  and  prayers,  after  the  form  of  the  ^Episcopalians. 

The  excitement  grew,  and  the  priests  thundered  against  the  new 
worship  which  had  so  speedily  assumed  form  under  the  experience 
and  energy  of  the  new  apostle.  An  American  Spaniard,  versed  in 
their  whole  style  of  procedure,  versed  equally  in  the  opposite  and 
better  style,  with  singing  and  Bible  reading,  and  praying  and 
preaching,  and  publishing,  was  making  himself  felt  and  feared 
throughout  the  city  and  surroundings. 

This  uproar  drew  attention  of  politicians  and  priests  to  the  new 
man  and  his  work.  His  friends  at  home  seconded  his  zeal.  Pri- 
vate persons  gave  largely  for  the  purchase  of  two  church  edifices, 
that  of  San  Francisco,  and  that  of  San  Jose  de  Gracia.  The  latter 
was  chiefly,  if  not  solely,  the  gift  of  his  own  father.  Rev.  Dr.  Butler, 
secretary  of  the  Society,  traversed  our  country,  eloquently  pleading 
for  the  new  enterprise,  and  aiding  its  extension  by  liberal  and  espe- 
cial gifts  of  many  gentlemen.  The  Chapel  of  San  Francisco  and 
the  Church  of  San  Jose  de  Gracia  were  fitted  up  and  occupied  by 
large  congregations.  The  latter  is  a  comely  church  within,  though 
possessed  of  but  few  external  attractions.  Among  the  worshipers 
at  the  latter  place  were  President  Juarez  and  his  family. 

Meantime  the  pamphlet  and  pulpit  war  went  on.  But  Dr.  Riley 
was  not  left  alone  on  the  field.  Out  of  the  eater  came  forth  meat. 
The  most  popular  preacher  in  the  cathedral  and  the  Church  of 
San  Francisco,  over  whose  eloquence  thousands  had  hung  en- 
tranced, who  was  a  violent  persecutor  of  the  rising  faith,  a  Domin- 


442 


OCK   XEXT-DOOK   NEIGHBOR. 


ican  friar,  Manuel  Aguas,  read  the  pamphlets,  was  convinced,  with- 
•lrew  from   his  pulpit   and  from  the   mass.      He  read  the   Bible, 

distrusted  his  former  teach- 
ings, visited  the  "Church  of 
Jesus,"  as  the  new  church 
called  itself,  and  at  last  con- 
fessed unto  salvation. 

It  made  a  great  stir.  He 
became  very  bold  in  his 
preaching,  and  aggravated  his 
former  associates  by  his  abili- 
ty and  enthusiasm  and  popu- 
larity. The  archbishop  ex- 
communicated him  in  the  ca- 
thedral in  the  presence  of  an 
immense  crowd.  But  the  de- 
posed priest  did  not  fear  the 
anathemas.  He  stood  in  the 
audience,  and  even  sought  de- 
bate while  the  terrible  curses 
were  being  solemnly  recited — anathemas  that  a  few  years  before 
would  have  been  instantly  attended  with  burnings  on  the  plaza 
of  his  own  convent,  and  in  which  also,  a  few  years  before,  had  it 
been  another  of  his  brethren  who  was  being  thus  accursed,  he 
would  himself  have  taken  part  joyfully  in  the  burning.  He 
waxed  bolder,  and  wrote  to  the  archbishop  a  powerful  paper,  in 
reply  to  his  excommunication,  showing  up  the  follies  and  false- 
hoods of  the  Romish  Church. 

It  is  worthy  of  being  scattered  over  our  own  land.  It  professes 
to  give  a  conversation  between  Paul  and  the  archbishop.  The  for- 
mer visits  the  cathedral,  witnesses  the  performances,  condemns  the 
heathen  idolatries,  and  learns,  to  his  surprise,  that  he  is  finding  fault 
with  what  some  assert  to  be  the  most  ancient  Christian  ordinances. 
He  inquires  farther,  and  finds  no  Bible  permitted  to  be  read,  mar- 
riage of  the  clergy  forbidden,  idolatry  observed  in  the  worship  of 


CHURCH   OF  SAN  JOSE  DE  GRACIA. 


A   POWERFUL   REBUKE.  443 

the  mass,  the  bread  of  sacrament  alone  being  distributed  to  the 
people,  the  wine  being  denied  because,  as  Aguas  says,  one  council 
affirms,  "  the  blood  of  the  Lord  would  be  squandered  by  adhering 
to  the  mustache."  In  these  charges  he  utters  some  truths  not  so 
well  known  to  Americans  as  they  should  be,  and  in  a  masterly, 
sarcastic  manner.  He  declares  "  Prohibition  of  matrimony  has 
driven  many  unfortunate  proselytes  to  commit  great  immoralities;" 
that  fastings  are  not  very  painful,  the  rich  on  such  days  fasting 
over  tables  laden  with  delicacies  and  wines  for  four  hours,  "rising 
very  contented,  not  to  say  inebriated  ;"  that  the  God  whom  the 
priest  creates  in  the  mass  "has  been  deposited  in  the  abdomen  of 
mice,  when  these  mischievous  little  creatures  have  eaten  the  con- 
secrated host,  a  misfortune  which  has  often  happened,  though  kept 
secret  from  the  faithful."  He  charges  the  priests  with  stealing  the 
alms  deposited  to  pray  souls  out  of  purgatory,  and  mocks  at  their 
saints  for  every  thing,  declaring  that  "it  is  a  very  fortunate  arrange- 
ment to  ask  Saint  Apollonia  to  cure  us  of  the  toothache  ;  Saint 
Lucy,  of  cataracts  on  the  eyes ;  Saint  Vincent  Ferrer,  of  pains  of 
childbirth;  Saint  Anthony  the  Capizon,  'so  called  on  account  of 
the  large  head  the  sculptor  has  seen  fit  to  place  on  his  shoulders,' 
to  find  lost  things  ;  Saint  Caralampius,  to  keep  our  houses  from 
being  burned  ;  Saint  Dinias,  to  preserve  us  from  robbers  ;  Saint  Ju- 
deus  Thaddeus,  to  deliver  from  slanderous  and  lying  tongues,"  al- 
though he  sarcastically  adds,  "  the  nuns  have  multiplied  the  prayers 
to  this  saint  in  vain,  since  Padre  Aguas  will  not  leave  Mexico, 
nor  cease  invading  the  Holy  Cathedral."  He  notes  what  was  men- 
tioned as  being  absent  from  the  catechism  sold  at  Leon,  the  erasing 
of  the  Second  Commandment.  lie  also  sarcastically  refers  to  the 
priest's  family  as  "  nephew:,  who  are  the  legitimate  sons  of  their 
uncles,"  and  presses  home  on  the  archbishop  not  only  these  un- 
welcome facts,  but  the  severest  denunciation  of  the  apostle  for  per- 
mitting and  approving  them.  Pitifully  he  concludes  with  the  story 
of  her  cruelty,  and  describes  her  great  inquisitor,  Dominic  de  Guz- 
man, as  surpassing  all  others  in  cruelty,  and  yet  canonized  and  wor- 
shiped by  the  Church.     Nowhere  in  modem  history  has  there  been 


444 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


a  severer,  sharper,  more  sarcastic,  and  more  effectual  rebuke  to  the 
pretensions  and  career  of  Papacy  than  in  this  powerful  pamphlet. 
Can  not  our  tract  societies  give  it  to  our  people  ? 


MANUEL  AGUAS. 


The  separation  was  complete.  The  most  popular  of  her  preach- 
ers, confessor  to  the  canons  of  the  cathedral,  doctor  and  teacher 
of  divinity,  giving  medical  advice  to  multitudes  of  the  poor  of  the 
city,  was  so  cast  out  by  the  greater  excommunication,  which  was 
nailed  on  the  doors  of  the  churches  and  announced  in  the  papers, 
that  all  his  friends  forsook  him,  and,  had  it  not  been  for  the  police, 
the  boys  would  have  stoned  him  in  the  streets. 

He  preached  to  large  houses  in  the  two  chapels,  and  superin- 
tended the  work  after  Dr.  Riley's  departure.  Sickness  seized  him, 
some  think  poison,  and  he  died  in  the  spring  of  1872,  when  only 
about  fifty  years  of  age.    His  last  sermon  was  on  the  text,  "  Blessed 


THE   WORK  SPREADING.  445 

are  ye  when  men  shall  revile  you,  and  persecute  you,  and  shall  say 
all  manner  of  evil  against  you  falsely  for  my  sake.  Rejoice,  and 
be  exceeding  glad,  for  great  shall  be  your  reward  in  heaven." 
He  was  so  ill  he  could  scarcely  finish  his  sermon.  He  was  taken 
from  the  pulpit.  Soon  he  was  dying.  A  friend  asked  him,  in  this 
solemn  moment, "  Do  you  now  love  Jesus  ?"  "  Much,  very  much," 
was  the  answer. 

As  memory  commenced  to  fail,  so  that  he  was  forgetting  his 
nearest  friends,  one  of  them  stooped  over  the  dying  man,  and  in 
his  ear  asked  the  question,  "Do  you  remember  the  blood  of  Christ?" 
He  had  not  forgotten  that.  He  exclaimed,  "The  most  precious 
blood  of  Jesus  !"  On  breathing  his  last,  a  smile  rested  on  his  coun- 
tenance, which  abode  still  upon  it  when  it  lay  in  state  in  the  Chap- 
el of  St.  Francis.  A  great  multitude  attended  his  funeral,  among 
whom  were  many  Romanists.  His  hearse  had  properly  upon  it 
the  emblem  of  an  open  Bible.     By  that  he  had  conquered. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Manuel  Aguas  is,  so  far,  the  chief  fruit 
of  the  Mexican  Reformation.  Whether  he  would  have  proved  the 
Luther,  can  not  be  known.  Probably  its  Luther  must  come  from 
abroad,  or  from  the  youth  now  growing  up  in  the  faith.*  More 
probably  it  will  have,  as  it  will  need,  no  Luther. 

The  congregations  were  not  confined  to  the  two  chapels  of  the 
"  Church  of  Jesus,"  or  to  any  organization.  Laymen  and  clerics 
began  to  talk  where  opportunity  offered.  I  attended  one  such 
meeting,  held  by  R.  Ponce  de  Leon,  near  the  Tulu  gate.  It  was 
a  charming  morning  when  we  walked  through  dust  and  degrada- 
tion to  the  preaching  place.  It  was  in  a  quadrangle  occupied  by 
a  gentleman  who  acted  as  an  interpreter  to  the  Indians.f  He  was 
a  grave  man  of  sixty.  He  led  me  into  his  library,  and  showed  me 
books  in  different  languages  still  in  use.  The  Indians  had  come 
to  the  gate  to  do  their  trading.  A  few,  in  their  blankets  and 
wretchedness,  sat  on  the  clean  floor  of  the  little  room,  while  the 
interpreter  and  a  few  of  his  sort  occupied  chairs.     Senor  Ponce 


*  Sec  Appendix  B.  t  See  Appendix  C. 


446  OCR  XEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

read  prayers  and  Scriptures  ;  his  wife  and  daughter  sang  superbly, 
and  he  talked  earnestly.     It  was  an  impressive  and  profitable  hour. 

With  the  death  of  Manuel  Aguas  the  movement  assumed  a  new 
departure.  The  American  and  Foreign  Christian  Union  aban- 
doned the  field.  The  Presbyterians,  encouraged  by  Dr.  Porteus,  of 
Philadelphia,  for  many  years  a  resident  of  Zacatecas,  accepted  the 
mission  in  Villa  de  Cos,  in  the  State  of  Zacatecas,  and  sent  their 
missionaries  there  in  the  fall  of  1872.  They  have  now  flourishing 
missions  at  Toluca,  Zacatecas,  Vera  Cruz,  and  in  and  around  the 
city  of  Mexico.  Rev.  Mr.  Hutchinson  at  the  capital  is  very  efficient 
and  successful. 

The  Baptists  flourish  in  Monterey  under  the  supervision  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Westrup.  A  native  preacher  introduced  their  form  of 
faith.  The  Congregationalists  at  Monterey  and  Guadalajara  have 
already  had  precedence  of  all  other  missionary  churches  in  the 
seal  of  martyrdom  to  which  they  have  attained,  in  the  brutal  mas- 
sacre of  Rev.  Mr.  Stephens,  by  a  mob  incited  by  a  Romish  priest. 

This  martyr,  John  Luther  Stephens,  deserves  especial  mention. 
Born  at  Swansea,  Wales,  October  19,  1847,  murdered  in  Ahualulco, 
March  2,  1874,  he  had  barely  passed  his  quarter  of  a  century  ere 
he  captured  this  crown.  His  father,  a  sea-captain,  was  drowned  at 
sea  in  1850.  His  mother  went  to  live  in  Petaluma,  California. 
In  1866,  when  nineteen  years  of  age,  he  joined  the  Congregational 
Church  in  that  place.  He  spent  nearly  five  years  in  study  for  the 
ministry,  graduating  in  May,  1872.  That  fall  he  entered  Mexico 
from  the  West.  He  staid  at  Guadalajara,  doing  valiant  service 
with  his  colleague,  Mr.  Watkins,  printing  the  Biblical  and  Roman 
Ten  Commandments,  and  placarding  them  over  the  city,  distrib- 
uting Bibles,  and  holding  meetings.  Great  was  their  boldness  of 
speech  toward  their  malignant  enemies  of  the  Roman  Church. 
Several  times  they  were  threatened  with  assassination  ;  but  their 
would-be  murderers  were  baffled.  Mr.  Stephens  visited  Ahualulco 
in  the  fall  of  '73,  sixty  miles  from  Guadalajara.  Here  he  had 
great  prosperity,  though  also  great  peril.  One  attempt  was  made 
to  shoot  him,  but  the  man  was  prevented.     At  last  they  succeeded. 


MURDER   IXCITED.  447 

This  is  the  story  as  told  by  Mr.  Watkins,  his  colleague,  and  printed 
in  the  Missionary  Herald: 

"  For  three  months  he  labored  with  success  far  beyond  our  Most  sanguine  ex- 
pectations, winning  many  souls  to  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  He  had  gained, 
through  his  labor  of  love,  the  favor  of  the  majority  of  the  people  of  Ahualulco. 
This  grand  success  infuriated  the  cura,  and  the  day  before  Mr.  Stephens's  death 
lie  preached  a  most  exciting  sermon  to  the  numerous  Indians  who  had  gathered 
there,  from  the  various  ranchos  and  pueblos  near  by,  in  which  he  said, 'It  is  nec- 
essary  to  cut  down,  even  to  the  roots,  the  tree  that  bears  bad  fruit.  You  may  inter- 
pret these  words  as  you  please.''  And  on  March  2,  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
a  mob  of  over  two  hundred  men,  armed  with  muskets,  axes,  clubs,  and  swords, 
approached  the  house  where  Mr.  Stephens  lived,  crying, '  Long  live  the  religion  !' 
'  Long  live  the  Senor  Cura  !'     '  Death  to  the  Protestants  !' 

"The  house  which  dear  Stephens  occupied  was  fronting  the  public  plaza,  and 
up  the  opposite  side  of  the  plaza  were  a  few  soldiers,  acting  as  guard  to  the  pris- 
on and  to  the  town,  from  whom  he  expected  protection.  But  we  have  learned 
that  these  soldiers,  instead  of  giving  him  protection,  aided  the  enemy  to  carry  out 
their  evil  design  of  murder  and  robbery.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Stephens  and  the  two 
brethren  that  were  with  him  saw  that  the  mob  was  fast  breaking  down  the  front 
door  they  entered  an  open  square,  which  was  in  the  centre  of  the  house.  From 
this  square,  Mr.  Stephens  and  Andres,  one  of  the  brethren,  made  their  w:ay  into 
the  back  yard,  seeking  there  a  place  of  shelter.  Here  they  separated,  Mr.  Ste- 
phens taking  a  pair  of  stairs  that  led  to  a  hay-loft,  and  Andres  making  his  escape 
by  climbing  over  the  wall  of  the  back  yard  and  letting  himself  down  among  the 
ruins  of  an  old  house,  from  which  he  made  his  way,  unseen  by  the  mob,  to  the 
mountains. 

"Mr.  Stephens  had  been  in  the  hay-loft  but  a  few  moments  when  the  furi- 
ous throng  entered,  and  he,  seeing  in  the  crowd  the  soldiers  alluded  to,  ran  to 
meet  them,  thinking  they  had  come  to  his  help  ;  and  when  he  cried  out,  '  Pro- 
tect me  !  Protect  me  !'  they  replied,  '  They  come  !  They  come  !'  and  at  the 
same  time  soldiers  and  others  discharged  their  muskets  and  other  fire-arms 
un  our  beloved  brother,  killing  him  instantly.  One  shot  entered  his  eye,  and 
several  his  breast,  and  as  soon  as  the  villains  reached  him  they  used  their 
swords,  cutting  his  head  literally  to  pieces,  and  it  is  said,  taking  the  brains  out 
with  sticks. 

"Nor  was  it  enough  for  these  ferocious  assassins  to  take  his  life  away  so  in- 
humanly, ar.d  commit  such  barbarities  on  the  dead  body,  but  they  afterward  rob- 
bed his  body  of  every  article  he  had  on,  and  the  house  of  every  thing  he  had  in 
it.  They  took  all  his  books  and  burned  them  in  the  public  pla/.a.  The  small 
English  Bible  that  was  in  the  dear  martyr's  hand  when  he  died  shared  the  same 


448 


OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 


fate.  Ami,  lest  the  awful  crime  should  fail  to  prove  the  utmost  barbarity,  they 
entered  the  church,  and  announced  the  deed  well  done  by  ringing  twice  a  merry 
peal  of  bells. 


JOHN   L.  STEPHENS. 

"  We  are  left  to  weep  and  mourn  the  loss  of  one  so  clearly  beloved,  but  his 
tears  have  been  all  wiped  away.  Stephens,  the  protomartyr  from  among  us, 
doubtless  ere  this  has  been  welcomed  by  Stephen,  the  protomartyr  from  among 
the  disciples  of  old,  into  the  company  of  those  who  have  laid  down  their  lives 
for  Christ's  sake,  and  our  brother  now,  with  them,  wears  his  crown  in  glory,  the 
crown  that  belongeth  to  the  martyr,  a  '  crown  that  fadeth  not  away.' 

"  It  was  an  absolute  impossibility  to  bring  the  body  to  Guadalajara,  on  ac- 
count of  the  great  heat  and  the  insecurity  of  the  roads,  so  it  was  secretly  buried 
Monday  night,  by  five  of  the  brethren,  in  a  place  only  known  to  them." 


THE  MARTYRED  STEPHENS.  449 

A  letter  from  Mrs.  Watkins  narrates  this  incident : 

"  The  theme  upon  which  he  dwelt  for  some  time  before  his  death  was  '  Sanc- 
tification,'  as  though  in  unconscious  preparation  for  that  life  before  him  upon 
which  he  was  so  shortly  to  enter.  During  the  last  evening  of  his  life  he  sang 
several  times,  in  company  with  others  who  were  present,  in  Spanish,  '  I  am  trav- 
eling, yes,  to  heaven  I  am  going.'  Sooner  by  far  than  he  expected  did  he  enter 
the  heavenly  port,  where  he  is  enjoying  the  bliss  prepared  for  him." 

This  is  the  favorite  hymn,  referred  to  previously,  "  Voy  al  cielo, 
soy  peregrino  "  (page  93),  and  shows  how  wide-spread  is  that  famil- 
iar melody,  and  how  befitting  it  proved  itself  to  be  in  this  supreme 
moment. 

The  Church  that  slew  him  hailed  his  death  with  the  same  glad- 
ness that  it  did  the  like  and  larger  massacre  of  Saint  Bartholomew. 
A  priest  in  the  theological  seminary  of  Guadalajara  told  his  stu- 
dents that  when  Stephens  was  killed  "  the  Church  had  one  ene- 
my, and  the  world  one  thief,  the  less  ;"  and  "would  to  God  that  the 
other  one"  (Watkins)  "  were  destroyed."  The  local  government  ar- 
rested two  priests  and  nine  of  the  people,  but  all  were  liberated. 
It  is  as  impossible  to  hang  one  yet,  or  to  punish  him  in  any  shape, 
for  murdering  a  Protestant.  Mexico  prevents,  sometimes,  these 
murders,  but  is  powerless  to  punish  those  who  may  commit  them. 
But  their  commission  will  yet  be  followed  by  punishment,  and  Mex- 
ico be  redeemed  from  this  horrible  sin  and  crime. 

The  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  South  has  initiated  work  in 
the  capital,  having  secured  the  Chapel  of  San  Andres,  and  is  pre- 
paring missionaries  for  other  sections.  The  Chapel  of  San  Andres 
is  in  the  rear  of  where  the  Church  of  St.  Andrew  stood,  which 
church  received  the  body  of  Maximilian,  on  its  way  to  Europe,  and 
where  it  lay  in  state.  Juarez,  consequently,  leveled  the  splendid 
structure  with  the  ground,  and  opened  a  street  over  the  very  spot 
where  Maximilian  lay. 

The  Episcopal  Church,  though  not  formally  present,  is  the  chief 
patron  of  the  work  of  Rev.  Dr.  Riley,  which  is  called  the  Church  of 
Jesus,  and  in  an  indirect,  if  not  direct,  form  will  probably  continue 
to  support  that  organization.     The  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 


45o  OUR  NEXT-DOOR  NEIGHBOR. 

has  flourishing  missions  at  Orizaba,  Cordova,  Pachuca,  Miraflores, 
and  other  places,  and  in  the  city  itself,  where  it  has  four  missions 
as  well  as  its  central  quarters.  So  that  from  the  seed-germ  of  Con- 
sul Black,  fifty  years  ago,  watered  and  replenished  by  the  American 
war,  and  nurtured  by  the  martyrs  who  suffered  unto  death  not  ten 
years  ago,  there  has  sprung  already  a  goodly  harvest,  while  prom- 
ises of  yet  greater  harvests  beckon  the  Church  to  yet  greater  sacri- 
fices. It  is  reported  that  sixty-nine  churches  are  already  organ- 
ized and  flourishing  throughout  that  land.  It  is  probable  that  this 
number  is  less  than  the  facts  will  warrant. 

The  state,  meanwhile,  is  progressing  in  the  ideas  of  a  proper  dis- 
tribution of  the  powers  and  prerogative  of  itself  and  its  co-ordi- 
nate, the  Church.  Getting  clear  of  the  terrible  tyranny  that  so 
long  held  it  down,  and  striking  blind  blows  at  all  ecclesiasticism,  in 
its  efforts  to  free  itself,  it  is  settling  down  calmly  and  strongly  to  a 
proper  discrimination  of  its  own  functions.  It  has  protected  the 
new  Church  in  many  places  from  danger,  and  will  not  do  less,  but 
more,  in  that  direction  in  the  future,  if  need  shall  be. 

Meantime,  the  enemy  rages  and  rises  at  times  into  ferocity  of 
hatred.  At  Toluca  it  assailed  with  riotous  bands  the  little  congre- 
gation,  shouting  "  Death  to  the  Protestants  !"*  At  Tirajaen  a  gang 
set  on  fire  the  house  of  a  family,  while  all  were  sleeping,  and 
wounded  the  father  severely  with  the  sword.  At  Cuernervaca  a 
Romanist  stabbed  one  of  the  brethren  with  a  poniard,  and  killed 
him.  At  Capulhuac  they  killed  one  and  wounded  three.  At  the 
capital,  earlier  in  the  movement,  one  was  assassinated.  At  Aca- 
pulco  a  mob  killed  and  wounded  a  dozen.  It  was  suppressed  by 
volleys  discharged  into  its  midst  by  the  commandant  of  the  place, 
which  resulted  in  several  deaths.  Other  persecutions  have  oc- 
curred, and  may  occur;  for  the  country  has  hardly  yet  been  pen- 
etrated, and  the  pagan,  which  is  the  village  population,  may  rise 
fiercely  on  the  teachers  and  preachers  of  a  better  faith.  But  rise 
and  grow  that  faith  will.      The  labors  of  Riley,  the  martyrdoms 


*  See  Appendix  I). 


•2 


c 

n 
> 

If: 


> 

o 

> 

G 

r 

- 


F5 
o 


o 

Z 


w 
n 


RAILROADS.— PYRAMIDS.  453 

of  Aguilar  and  Stephens,  the  heroism  of  Aguas,  the  vigor  of  the 
present  workers,  shall  not  be  in  vain.  To-morrow  shall  be  as  this 
day,  and  much  more  abundant. 

Another  topic,  touched  upon  in  the  beginning,  deserves  notice  at 
the  end.  I  had  the  privilege  of  going  out  in  the  same  steamer 
with  railroad  managers,  abode  in  the  same  hotel  with  them,  and 
rode  with  them  over  the  same  paths.  Success  has  attended  efforts 
in  that  direction.  Mr.  Plumb,  former  secretary  of  legation,  and  a 
son,  I  believe,  of  a  missionary,  has  succeeded  in  getting  an  agree- 
ment signed  by  the  Government  which  insures  a  railroad  to  Leon 
and  to  Texas.  He  was  not  the  representative  of  the  party  I  was 
most  conversant  with  ;  but  it  is  with  railroads  as  with  Christian 
churches:  it  is  not  of  so  much  importance  who  build  them  as  that 
they  be  established.  His  bland  manners,  admirable  tact,  elegant 
bijou  of  a  house,  fine  command  of  the  language,  and  knowledge  of 
men,  with  a  constant  perseverance  that  was  not  to  be  put  by,  se- 
cured him  the  precedence.  Undoubtedly,  the  parties  behind  both 
leaders  will  be  united  in  the  prosecution  of  the  gigantic  enterprise. 
Railroads  and  religion  have  an  affinity.  They  come  from  the  same 
land,  and  for  the  elevation  of  the  people.  Together  they  will  de- 
velop and  regenerate  the  nation. 

A  correction  may  find  place  here.  Reading,  since  these  pages 
were  written,  the  interesting  work  of  Judge  Wilson,  I  find  a  sugges- 
tion there,  which  I  am  inclined  to  adopt.  It  is  that  the  Pyramid 
of  Cholula  is  natural,  and  not  artificial.  He  explains  the  adobe 
stratifications  that  were  noted,  as  buttresses  to  preserve  the  road. 
There  is  some  plausibility  in  this ;  but  only  a  thorough  research 
can  verify  it.  Nor  does  this  prove  the  other  pyramids  near  the  city 
to  be  natural.  His  views  as  to  Cortez  and  his  conquest  I  do  not 
support.     It  is,  therefore,  with  pleasure  that  I  admit  this  suggestion. 

I  have  carefully  abstained  from  giving  any  information  that  I 
had  to  learn  from  books.  All  such  information  is  better  found  in 
its  own  place.  I  have  not  told  you  the  number  of  the  states,  their 
names,  their  boundaries,  their  populations,  their  trade,  or  any  thing 
belonging  to  that  valuable  department  of  Mexican  knowledge.     I 


454  OUR   NEXT-BOOR   NEIGHBOR. 

could  have  easily  written  out  from  books  the  facts  that  Mexico  has 
9,176,082  inhabitants,  not  one  more,  nor  less;  that  it  is  as  densely 
populated  as  the  "United  States  of  the  North  ;"  that  it  is  made  up 
of  twenty-three  states,  one  territory,  and  one  district,  whose  names 
I  could  write  in,  but  you  would  not  know  any  more  then  than  now. 
All  this  and  more  you  will  find  in  cyclopaedias  and  gazetteers,  and 
chiefly  in  a  coming  guide-book  which  has  never  yet  been  gotten 
up,  but  which  I  learned  that  an  enterprising  gentleman  was  en- 
srajred  in.  I  have  not  discussed  the  various  tribes  and  tonjrues  of 
the  Indians.  That  has  been  done,  and  is  being  done,  by  expert 
and  accomplished  hands. 

I  should  also  add,  that  I  know  of  no  previous  itinerary  of  the 
tour  from  Mexico  to  Matamoras,  a  French  brief  military  journal 
to  Saltillo  being  all  I  have  seen.  This  part  of  the  journey,  there- 
fore, is  entirely  without  any  aid  from  other  sources  than  my  own 
eyes.  The  rest  has  been  once  and  again  spread  before  us  on  other 
canvas.  Yet  a  new  picture  of  an  old,  familiar  landscape  may  con- 
vey new  and  agreeable  impressions.     May  this  have  that  fortune. 

The  work  is  done.  It  remains  but  to  thank  the  many  friends 
who  have  aided  in  putting  it  into  this  comely  shape.  Mr.  Kilburn, 
of  the  firm  of  Kilburn  Brothers,  Littleton,  New  Hampshire,  whom 
I  met  in  the  capital,  has  kindly  allowed  the  use  of  many  of  his  su- 
perb photographs.  Messrs.  Skilton,  Butler,  Riley,  and  others  have 
aided  with  their  superior  knowledge.  The  secretaries  of  the  sever- 
al missionary  boards  operating  here  have  kindly  supplied  me  with 
the  data  at  their  command.  How  patiently  the  compositors  and 
proof-readers,  and  that  chief,  unknown  of  men,  who  superintends 
them,  have  gone  through  the  obscure  manuscript,  and  brought  it 
forth  in  comeliness,  only  they  and  the  writer  know.  They,  at  least, 
shall  be  gratefully  remembered.  To  all,  thanks.  Not  the  least  to 
you,  brother  reader,  for  having  accompanied  me  thus  far  on  this 
long  journey.  May  you  break  the  icy  monotony  of  our  long  win- 
ters by  a  visit  to  our  Next-door  Neighbor,  and  forget  this  story  in 
the  delights  of  your  own  experience.      Hail  and  farewell  ! 


APPENDIX  A. 


THE   PROTEST  IN  LEON. 

[Translated  from  the  Rcvista  Universal,  Mexico,  October  28,  1S73.] 

''Doctor  and  Master  Don  Jose  Maria  de  Jesus  Diez  y  Sollano,  Bishop  of  Leon 
by  the  Grace  of  God,  to  our  beloved  Diocesans,  Health  and  Peace  in  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ: 

"  Following  the  illustrious  example  of  our  Most  Holy  Father,  Pius  IX.,  who, 
full  of  sacerdotal  firmness,  in  the  midst  of  the  most  cruel  enmities  against  the 
Church,  incessantly  raises  his  pontifical  voice  to  admonish  the  faithful  on  each 
occasion  as  to  the  duties  that  are  incumbent  on  them,  and  explicitly  declares  all 
the  Catholic  doctrines  which  it  is  their  duty  to  follow,  intimating  what  censures 
the  Church  would  pass  on  any  act  contrary  to  said  doctrines,  according  to  the 
canons  that  were  lately  published  in  his  allocution  of  the  25th  of  the  past  July  ; 
we,  in  the  fulfillment  of  our  episcopal  duty,  do  not  wish  to  criminate  ourselves  be- 
fore God  (before  whose  tribunal  we  have  all  to  appear)  by  not  raising  our  voice 
on  the  present  occasion,  when  our  faithful  ones,  seduced  by  the  dread  of  human- 
ity, protect  a  constitution  and  laws  which  involve  many  underhand  heresies  con- 
demned by  the  Holy  Church,  and  others  nominally  condemned  in  the  Encyclic 
Quanta y  Syllabus  of  the  same  most  high  pontiff,  Pius  IX. 

"  We  declare  :  That  the  protest  which  newly  exists,  and  which  is  added  to- 
day, the  25th  of  September,  to  the  Constitution  of  1857  by  decree  of  the  General 
Congress  is  unlawful,  and  those  who  protect  it  simply  commit  a  mortal  sin,  and 
the  crime  of  heresy,  and  those  who  comply  with  the  feast  of  its  externals  will  re- 
quire absolution  from  the  Holy  Father. 

"  We  equally  declare  :  That  for  the  same  reason  the  Mexican  Episcopate  de- 
clared that  he  could  not  absolve  those  who  had  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance  to 
the  Laws  of  Reform,  without  previous  retractation  from  the  scandal  and  from 
the  heretical  propositions  which  are  involved  in  this  protest,  and  that  no  one 
who  has  protected  it  can  be  absolved  sacramcntally  without  previous  retracta- 
tion and  reparation  from  the  scandal,  and  from  the  form  and  manner  of  swearing 
to  said  laws. 

"The  Holy  Apostolic  Roman  Catholic  Church,  following  the  footsteps  of  the 

30 


456 


APPENDIX  B. 


holy  apostles,  Peter  and  Paul,  and  the  expressed  doctrines  which  are  evident 
in  their  canonical  epistles,  has  been  the  first  to  teach  obedience  to  the  people, 
respect  and  submission  to  the  authorities  and  civil  laws,  not  only  through  fear, 
but  for  conscience'  sake,  non  sohun  propter  iram,  sed  itiam  propter  concientiam, 
and  still  more  through  the  disjunctive  of  obeying  God  and  obeying  man,  and  has 
incessantly  proclaimed  the  maxim  of  the  prince  of  the  apostles,  Peter, '  obediro 
oportet  Deo  magis  quam  hotninibus '  (it  is  necessary  to  obey  God  rather  than 
man),  and  in  such  an  extreme  the  answer  of  a  Catholic  ought  to  be  that  of  the 
same  apostle  when  before  the  Sanhedrim,  '■Non possutnus'  (we  can  not.it  is  not 
lawful) ;  and  a  man  can  not  do  these  things  without  showing  that  he  acts  con- 
trary to  the  authorities  who  respect  the  authority  of  God,  according  to  the 
judgment  of  St.  Paul :  'No/i  est  potestas  nisi  a  Deo"1  (There  is  no  power  but  of 
God). 

"  We  exhort,  therefore,  our  faithful  diocesans,  and  admonish  them,  and  even 
supplicate  them,  'in  vinculis  Cristi,1  to  enliven  their  faith,  and  remember  the 
precept  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  which  to-day  urges  us  in  a  special  manner  to 
confess  before  men,  in  order  that  they  may  prove  us  in  the  name  of  their  Heav- 
enly Father,  and  that  we  might  flee  resolutely  from  the  risk  of  incurring  that  ter- 
rible sentence  which  the  same  Jesus  Christ  adds, '  He  that  denieth  me  before 
men,  him  will  I  also  deny  before  my  Father  and  his  angels.' 

"And,  in  order  that  this  notice  might  reach  all,  we  command  all  the  rectors 
of  our  diocesans  that  the  first  religious  act  after  the  reception  of  this  be,  in  order 
that  all  may  read,  to  fix  it  on  the  doors  of  the  chancels. 

"  Given  in  the  Santa  Visita  de  Silao,  on  the  14th  of  October,  signed  by  my 
hand,  and  countersigned  by  our  Secretary  of  Visita. 

"  Jose  Maria  de  Jesus,  Bishop  of  Leon. 
"Jose  H.  Ibarguengoitia,  Secretary  of  Visita. 


APPENDIX  B. 

The  following  letter  of  Manuel  Aguas,  written  only  six  months  before  his 
death,  illustrates  his  spirit  and  the  soundness  of  his  conversion.  It  is  a  touch- 
ing cry  from  the  chief  of  the  fathers  of  this  better  faith.     It  should  yet  be  heard. 

"  Mexico,  October,  1871. 

"  I  have  learned  that  you  take  a  sincere  and  practical  interest  in  the  propaga- 
tion of  the  Gospel  in  this  Republic  of  Mexico — a  nation  until  now  sadly  unfortu- 
nate— unfortunate  because  it  has  not  enjoyed  the  blessings  of  true  religion. 

"  The  Lord  has,  most  clearly  and  signally,  blessed  the  Christian  efforts  that 
you  have  made  in  our  behalf.     Let  me  tell  you  how :  You  contributed  funds  in 


APPENDIX  B. 


457 


behalf  of  Gospel  work  in  this,  my  native  land.  Part  of  these  funds  were  em- 
ployed in  the  publication  of  Christian  pamphlets,  which  were  widely  distributed 
here.  These  publications  were  the  instrumentality  that  the  Lord  selected,  in  or- 
der that  I  might  begin  to  realize  the  spiritual  blindness  in  which  I  found  myself. 
I  was  a  presbyter  in  the  Roman  Church,  and  most  anxiously  longed  for  salva- 
tion. With  all  sincerity  did  I  follow  the  errors  of  that  idolatrous  sect,  and  im- 
agined Protestantism,  or  true  Christianity,  to  be,  as  it  were,  a  pestilence  that  was 
coming  to  make  us,  in  Mexico,  more  unfortunate  than  ever.  I  consequently  op- 
posed its  doctrines  with  all  my  power.  I  sincerely  thought  that  in  so  doing  I 
not  only  did  good  service  to  my  native  land,  but  also  gained  merits  to  aid  me  in 
obtaining  everlasting  glory.  How  unfortunate  was  I !  I  knew  that  Jesus  Christ 
had  died  for  us  ;  but  that  most  precious  belief  was  to  me  obscured,  because  from 
childhood  I  had  been  taught  that,  in  order  to  obtain  salvation,  besides  the  mer- 
its of  the  Redeemer,  the  meritorious  works  of  men  were  also  needed.  As  if,  for- 
sooth, the  sacrifice  of  Calvary  was  not  enough  to  save  the  soul  that  truly  trusts 
in  it.  Being  imbued  with  these  Romish  errors,  it  is  not  strange  that  I  should 
oppose  and  attack  true  Christianity  ;  that  I  should  frequently  declaim  against  it 
in  the  pulpit ;  that  I  should  go  to  the  confessional  in  search  of  a  remedy  for  my 
spiritual  evils  ;  and,  as  one  precipice  often  leads  to  another,  I  prayed  to  the  Vir- 
gin Mary  and  to  the  saints,  and  endeavored  to  gain  all  the  indulgences  possible ; 
all  which  practices  offend  and  tend  to  dishonor  Jesus,  our  generous  Saviour. 

"As  a  natural  consequence,  I  had  not  obtained  peace  for  my  soul ;  I  doubted 
of  my  salvation,  and  I  never  believed  that  I  had  done  sufficient  work  to  obtain 
it ;  and  I  was  truly  unfortunate,  because  I  observed  with  sorrow  that,  after  all  I 
did,  my  heart  remained  unconverted,  and  dragged  me  often  into  sin. 

"  I  was  in  this  sad  state  when  there  reached  me  the  pamphlet  called  '  True 
Liberty.'  I  read  it  most  carefully  ;  and,  notwithstanding  that  I  tried  to  find  in 
the  arsenal  of  my  Romish  subtleties  arguments  with  which  to  answer  the  clear 
reasoning  that  I  found  in  this  publication,  a  voice  within — the  voice  of  my  con- 
science— told  me  that  my  answers  were  not  satisfactory,  and  that  perhaps  I  was 
in  error. 

"  I  commenced  to  reject  the  errors  of  Romanism,  and  dedicated  myself  to  the 
study  of  all  the  Protestant  books  and  pamphlets  that  I  could  lay  my  hands  on. 
I  carefully  read  the  '  History  of  the  Reformation  of  the  Sixteenth  Century,'  by 
Merle  D'Aubigne,  and,  above  all,  I  commenced  to  study  the  Bible,  without  pay- 
ing any  attention  to  the  Romish  notes  and  interpretations.  This  study,  from  the 
moment  that  it  was  accompanied  by  earnest  prayer,  led  me  to  true  happiness. 
I  commenced  to  see  the  light.  The  Lord  had  pity  on  me,  and  enabled  me  to 
clearly  understand  the  great  truths  of  the  Gospel. 

"  I  first  realized  that  it  is  false,  most  false,  that  salvation  is  only  found  in  the 
Romish  Church,  as  the  Romanists  pretend.     But  what  completely  convinced  me 


458  ATP  END  IX  B. 

of  the  falseness  of  the  Roman  system  was  the  finding  that,  after  I  distrusted  my 
own  natural  strength  and  trusted  in  Jesus  alone,  abandoning  all  other  interces- 
sors, and  believing  that  true  safety,  salvation,  and  the  remedy  for  our  guilt,  are 
alone  to  be  found  in  the  sacrifice  of  Calvary,  I  felt  a  great  change  in  my  heart ; 
my  feelings  were  different ;  what  formerly  pleased  me  now  was  repugnant  to 
me ;  I  felt  real  and  positive  sentiments  of  love  and  charity  toward  my  brethren 
— sentiments  which  before  were  fictitious  and  artificial  in  me  ;  in  a  word,  I  found 
the  long-desired  peace  of  my  soul.  By  the  grace  of  the  Lord,  I  was  enabled  to 
resist  temptations,  and  passed  a  quiet,  peaceful,  and  happy  life.  As  I  had  dedi- 
cated several  years  to  the  study  of  medicine,  I  was  able  to  maintain  myself  by 
this  profession.  In  the  evening  I  read  the  Holy  Scriptures  to  my  family,  and 
prayed  with  them. 

"Although  all  this  was  very  agreeable  to  me,  it  was  not  just  that  I  should  con- 
tinue inactive  in  the  Gospel  cause.  I  soon  commenced  to  think  that  I  was  in 
conscience  bound  to  participate  with  my  brethren  the  happiness  I  enjoyed,  and 
especially  so,  as  I  had  much  facility  in  speaking  to  multitudes,  from  my  long 
practice  and  experience  in  preaching  that  I  had  had  while  yet  a  Roman  Catho- 
lic. I  determined  to  manifest  publicly  that  I  had  separated  myself  from  the 
Roman  Church,  and  that  I  had  joined  the  true  Church  of  Jesus.  But,  in  order  to 
take  this  step,  I  found  myself  laboring  under  great  difficulties,  which  the  devil 
would  fain  have  me  believe  to  be  insurmountable.  The  idea  of  poverty  from 
want  of  a  livelihood  presented  itself  to  me  with  all  its  deformity  ;  as  I  was  aware 
that  the  moment  I  made  such  a  declaration  the  Roman  Bishop  would  excom- 
municate me,  and,  as  I  lived  among  an  essentially  fanatic  people,  I  felt  sure  that 
not  only  my  patients  would  abandon  me  immediately,  but  that  all  my  friends 
would  turn  a  cold  shoulder  upon  me  and  also  abandon  me,  and  that  my  life 
would  be  menaced  and  attacks  made  against  it.  These  and  other  considerations 
entered  my  mind,  and  I  imagine  that  Satan  augmented  them,  so  as  to  try  and 
swerve  me  from  accomplishing  the  holy  resolution  that  I  had  adopted. 

"  Nevertheless,  my  resolution  was  unshaken,  and  I  commenced  to  attend  the 
Provisional  Protestant  Church,  which  had  been  established  in  a  large  hall  situ- 
ated in  the  Street  of  San  Juan  de  Letran.  Being  short-sighted,  I  there  began  to 
know  my  dear  brother,  the  Rev.  Henry  Chauncey  Riley,  solely  by  his  voice.  It 
filled  me  with  comfort  to  hear  him  speak  of  Jesus  and  his  precious  blood ;  the 
liturgy  and  hymns  which  the  congregation  used  enchanted  me,  as  they  were  full 
of  the  pure  faith  of  the  primitive  Christian;  and  I  anxiously  desired  the  arrival 
of  Sundays,  because  in  our  church  services  I  enjoyed  delicious  moments  of  peace 
and  joy — Christian  emotions  that  I  had  never  felt  in  the  Roman  sect. 

"  I  had  for  some  time  been  thinking  how  to  become  personally  acquainted 
with  my  brother  Henry.  One  night,  as  I  was  at  one  of  our  churches,  I  heard 
my  brother  preach  with  so  much  valor  and  faith  that  I  became  quite  ashamed 


APPENDIX  B. 


459 


of  myself,  and  was  filled  with  a  holy  envy  of  that  Chilian  who,  in  Mexico,  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  loathsome  idolatry,  and  surrounded  by  enemies,  presented  him- 
self as  an  intrepid  soldier  of  Jesus,  ready  to  lay  down  his  life  for  his  divine  Cap- 
tain. I  then  was  determined  to  present  myself  to  him  alone,  and  to  give  him  a 
fraternal  greeting,  exclaiming,  '  We  are  brothers  ;  our  cause  is  the  same  :  let  us 
unite  our  efforts,  and,  strengthened  by  our  adorable  Saviour,  let  us  contend  for 
the  faith  of  Jesus,  even  though  we  perish  in  the  contest' 

"  Various  persons  had  spoken  to  my  brother  Riley  about  me.  I  was  presented 
to  him  by  an  elderly  gentleman,  who  is  a  Protestant.  We  had  a  long  inter- 
view, in  which  we  were  convinced  that  we  were  brothers  in  the  faith  ;  we  loved 
one  another  ;  and,  since  then,  we  worked  together  unitedly.  Our  Lord  God  has 
deigned  to  bless  our  work  :  for  notwithstanding  the  intense  and  furious  persecu- 
tion that  the  Romanists  have  raised  against  me,  the  number  of  true  Christians 
is  increasing  most  marvelously  in  Mexico.  In  Central  Mexico  we  have  many 
Christian  congregations,  and  their  numbers  are  increasing  rapidly,  even  among 
the  smaller  towns,  where  our  brethren  often  suffer  the  most  terrible  persecutions 
from  the  Roman  Catholic  curates  and  fanatics.  The  Romanists  have  burned 
the  houses  of  some  of  our  fellow-Christians,  wounding  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren in  their  efforts  to  check  the  progress  of  the  Gospel  in  Mexico;  but,  in  spite 
of  all  their  efforts,  we  have  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  the  sacred  light  of 
the  Gospel,  which  is  now  so  brightly  shining  in  my  native  land,  and  increasing  in 
splendor  every  day,  will  not  be  darkened,  even  with  all  the  efforts  that  our  per- 
secutors, the  fanatical  Roman  Catholics,  are  making  against  it. 

"Allow  me  to  heartily  thank  you  for  what  you  have  done  in  our  behalf.  Part 
of  your  contribution  for  Mexico  was  converted  into  Christian  pamphlets,  that 
were  widely  and  effectively  circulated  here.  One  of  these  arrived  at  my  sad 
dwelling,  where  I  was  despairingly  suffering,  because  I  had  not  been  able  to  find 
peace  for  my  soul,  finding  myself,  as  I  then  did,  in  the  darkness  of  Roman  idola- 
try ;  but  from  the  time  that  I  read  that  Christian  pamphlet— little  esteemed  by 
the  worldly,  but  most  precious  to  me  as  containing  the  Divine  truth — the  Lord 
commenced  to  lead  me,  little  by  little,  in  a  manner  at  once  sweet  and  powerful, 
without  in  the  least  wounding  my  free-will,  until  He  guided  me  into  the  glorious 
light  of  faith,  where  I  find  myself  so  happy,  and  where,  by  the  Lord's  help,  with 
the  Bible  in  my  hand,  I  have  succeeded  in  making  the  Roman  magnates  in  this 
capital  tremble  with  dread  and  consternation. 

"By  what  I  have  already  said,  you  will  clearly  understand  that  these  are  sol- 
emn moments  for  my  native  land,  as  these  may  have  much  to  do  with  her  future 
happiness.  The  admirable  religious  movement  that  is  now  making  such  rapid 
progress  in  this  republic,  is  likely  soon  to  spread  the  Gospel  in  its  purity  far  and 
wide  throughout  this  nation,  and  lead  to  a  great  reformation  in  the  Mexican 
Church.    This  reformation  is  absolutely  needed.    Our  society  is  divided  between 


46o  APPENDIX  B. 

'Liberals'  and  'Conservative  Romanists.'  The  'Liberals'  have  abandoned  the 
Roman  Church.  The  Romanists,  who  have  imagined  from  what  is  taught  them 
that  they  can  live  a  life  of  dissipation,  and  yet,  provided  they  confess  themselves 
in  their  dying  hour,  be  saved,  remain  in  the  heretical  sect  of  Rome. 

"The  'Liberals'  have  plunged  into  the  dark  horrors  of  infidelity,  and  arc  the 
slaves  of  their  evil  inclinations ;  the  Romanists  are  the  slaves  of  the  tyrant  of 
Rome.  In  a  word,  true  religion  has  not  been  the  foundation  of  our  society.  The 
results  of  this  want  have  been  fratricidal  wars,  insecurity,  avarice,  poverty,  and 
misery.  Scenes  of  wickedness  have  been  the  schools  where  our  Mexican  chil- 
dren have  been  educated. 

"  Such  a  heart-rending  picture  ought  to  fill  Christians  with  sorrow.  They 
ought  to  ask  themselves:  'Why  should  Mexico  find  itself  on  the  border  of  a 
precipice  where  deepest  ruin  threatens  ?' 

"  The  answer  is  a  very  simple  one.  Allow  me  to  point  it  out  with  frankness, 
but  without  meaning  to  give  the  slightest  offense,  for  I  love  you  for  Jesus  Christ's 
sake.  Having  made  this  observation,  I  must  say  that  all  you  who  compose  the 
true  Church  of  Christ  in  that  country  neighboring  to  ours  are  partly  to  blame 
for  our  misfortunes.  1  know  that  you  are  true  Christians  ;  I  know  that  you  have 
imparted  to  Spain  your  generous  protection ;  I  know  that  you  send  your  mis- 
sionaries to  remote  parts  of  the  world,  such  as  Syria,  where  you  generously  and 
disinterestedly  aid  the  Gospel  work.  Why,  then,  have  you  for  so  many  years 
forgotten  your  brethren,  who,  by  your  very  side,  have  been  without  the  bread  of 
the  Divine  word  ?  Why  do  you  allow  them  to  perish,  and  to  sink,  day  by  clay, 
into  deeper  ignorance  and  fanaticism  ?  It  is  well  and  good  that  you  should  ex- 
ercise your  charity  with  those  people  to  whom  you  send  the  light  of  the  Gospel, 
however  distant  they  may  be ;  but  this  is  no  reason  why  you  should  leave  the 
Mexicans  by  your  very  side  in  the  darkness  of  idolatry.  I  am  sure  that  you  and 
your  friends  will  agree  with  me  that  it  is  necessary  to  do  what  is  possible,  in  or- 
der that  true  religion  may  be  extended  throughout  this,  my  native  land.  If  you 
think  on  this  subject  with  earnest  prayer  to  God,  your  consciences  will  call  upon 
you  to  fulfill  this  duty  as  Christians.  God  has  not  in  vain  bestowed  on  your 
wealthy  Church  riches,  nor  in  vain  has  He  endowed  you  with  generous  hearts. 

"Manuel  Aguas." 


APPENDIX  C. 

THE  INDIAN  TRIBES   OE  MEXICO.— THEIR   ACTUAL    CONDI- 
TION, SOCIAL   AND  SPIRITUAL. 

Mr.  James  Pascoe,  an  English  Wesleyan,  for  many  years  residing  in  Toluca, 
now  doing  admirable  service  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  gives  in  this  article  in 
the  monthly  Missionary  Journal  of  that  Church  an  excellent  view  of  the  past 
and  present  of  the  Indian. 

"  The  Indians  form  three-fourths  of  the  entire  population  of  Mexico,  and  are 
divided  into  three  distinct  classes  :  ist,  the  subjugated  tribes  ;  ad,  the  Pinto  In- 
dians of  the  Tierras  Calientes  ;  3d,  the  untamed  Comanches,  Apaches,  and  others. 
At  present,  I  will  speak  only  of  the  subjugated  tribes,  as  being  most  numerous, 
most  important,  and  as  those  who  are  likely  to  be  first  brought  under  Gospel  in- 
fluence. These  Indians  are  the  broken-down  and  despised  remnants  of  the  old 
Aztec,  Texcucan,  Tlascaltecan,  and  other  nations,  who,  only  three  hundred  years 
ago,  were  the  ruling  powers  in  Mexico.  Three  centuries  of  the  withering  influ- 
ence of  Romanism  have  sufficed  to  degrade  these  noble  tribes  to  the  level  of 
beasts  of  burden  ;  stamping  out  almost  every  spark  of  liberty  or  virtue,  and  steep- 
ing them  in  superstition,  ignorance,  and  fanaticism  of  the  grossest  kind.  These 
tribes  still  retain  their  ancient  dialects,  although,  in  many  cases,  corrupted  and 
mixed  with  many  Spanish  words  ;  but  still  they  are  so  distinct  that  an  Indian  of 
one  tribe  can  not  understand  the  dialect  of  another  ;  and  the  gulf  that  separates 
the  Spanish-speaking  Mexican  from  the  Mexican  or  Otomi,  or  Mazahua-speak- 
ing  Indian,  is  as  great  as  that  which  divides  the  English  and  Chinese. 

"As  a  rule,  the  Indians  have  their  towns  apart  from  the  Mexicans,  and  the 
lands  belong  to  the  whole  community,  each  man  having  a  right  to  cut  fire-wood 
or  boards,  etc.,  and  to  sell  them,  or  to  till  any  part  he  pleases;  but  no  one  can 
sell  land  without  the  consent  of  the  whole  town.  Also,  each  man  is  obliged  to 
render  general  services,  gratuitously  when  required,  and  the  expenses  of  religious 
festivals  are  defrayed  from  a  general  fund,  to  which  all  contribute.  The  Mexi- 
can Government  has  endeavored  to  break  down  this  system  of  clanship  ;  but  the 
Indians,  generally,  have  been  shrewd  enough  to  evade  the  laws  and  remain  in 
their  old  ways. 

"These  towns  are  not  grouped  in  any  order.  Here  will  be  a  town  of  Indians, 
speaking  Mazahua ;  close  by  may  be  another  of  Spanish-speaking  Mexicans;  a 


4()2  APPENDIX  C. 

little  farther  on  a  village  of  Otomies — this  medley  being  seen  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  ail  large  cities,  and  each  town  preserves  its  distinctive  language  and  cus- 
toms, and  even  style  and  color  of  dress — the  women  of  one  town  adopting  one 
uniform  shape  and  color  of  garments.  But,  at  a  greater  distance  from  the  cities, 
we  find  large  districts  occupied  wholly  by  Indians  of  one  tribe  or  another.  The 
Indian  lives  generally  in  a  rude  hut  of  shingles,  or  of  sun-dried  mud  bricks,  and 
roofed  with  shingles  or  grass  according  to  the  supply  at  hand  ;  but  such  huts 
are  low-roofed,  the  bare  earth  the  only  carpet,  and  wind  and  rain  finding  free  en- 
try by  a  thousand  openings  in  walls  and  roofs.  The  one  room  serves  for  every 
purpose,  and  often  affords  shelter  to  pigs  and  poultry,  as  well  as  to  the  family. 
The  staple  food  is  the  maize  cake  (tortilla),  the  Indian  very  rarely  tasting  animal 
f00(l — many  not  once  a  month,  and  thousands  not  once  a  year.  Their  costume 
is  also  simple.  The  men  wear  a  simple  shirt  and  a  pair  of  cotton  drawers ;  the 
women,  a  thin  chemise,  and  a  colored  'enagra'  (skirt)  rolled  around  their  waist ; 
and  the  children,  as  a  rule,  in  unhampered  freedom.  A  '  petate '  (rush  mat)  for 
a  bed  when  obtainable,  and  a'zerape'  (blanket)  as  overcoat  by  day  and  bed- 
clothes by  night,  complete  the  Indian's  outfit.  These  Indians  supply  the  towns 
with  poultry,  vegetables,  pottery,  eggs,  mats,  and  other  similar  corn  materials, 
which  they  carry  for  many  leagues. 

"  For  instance,  an  Indian  starts  from  his  home  loaded  with  goods  weighing, 
on  an  average,  five  arrobas  (one  hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds),  and  sometimes 
eight  arrobas,  and  will  travel  a  week,  and  often  two  or  three  weeks,  before  dis- 
posing of  his  wares.  He  calculates  how  many  days  the  journey  will  last,  and 
takes  a  stock  of  tortillas  to  last  the  whole  time,  allowing  six  tortillas  a  day,  which 
he  divides  into  three  portions  of  two  tortillas  each,  for  morning,  noon,  and  even- 
ing meal.  And  this  is  his  only  subsistence.  So  ignorant  and  stubborn  are  these 
Indians  that  they  oftentimes  refuse  to  sell  their  goods  on  the  road.  I  have  seen 
many  carrying  fowls,  for  instance,  to  sell  in  Mexico  city ;  I  have  met  them  a 
week's  journey  from  Mexico,  and  have  proposed  to  buy  the  entire  lot  at  the 
same  price  they  hoped  to  realize  at  their  journey's  end ;  but  no,  he  was  bound 
for  the  city,  and  all  my  arguments  were  vain  :  not  a  chick  would  he  sell.  This 
has  occurred  on  various  occasions.  Charcoal,  plants,  etc.,  are  all  supplied  to  the 
towns  by  the  Indians,  and  it  is  astonishing  to  see  their  patient  endurance.  A 
man  will  spend,  at  least,  four  days  in  the  mountains  burning  the  charcoal ;  then 
carries  it  on  his  back  a  day's  journey,  sometimes  more,  and  sells  it  for  thirty- 
seven  cents,  thus  realizing  from  six  to  seven  cents  a  day.  In  the  same  way  the 
poor  creature  fares  with  all  else.  If  he  sells  planks  or  'vigas,'  he  has  first  to 
pay  for  liberty  to  fell  timber,  if  he  happens  not  to  belong  to  a  town  rich  in  for- 
ests. Felling  the  tree  and  hewing  out  the  log  with  his  hatchet  occupies  a  day. 
In  four  days  he  has  four  'vigas'  ready.  The  whole  family  is  then  assembled, 
and  the  logs  are  dragged  down  to  the  plain  and  placed  on  two  rude  wheels — 


APPENDIX  C.  463 

also  the  work  of  the  hatchet.  The  donkey  is  now  hitched  on,  and  husband,  wife, 
sons,  and  daughters,  each  lending  a  hand,  away  they  travel,  one  or  two  days' 
journey  to  the  nearest  city.  On  reaching  it,  they  must  pay  an  entrance-fee,  gen- 
erally only  three  cents  on  each  log ;  and  at  length  they  sell  their  logs  at  thirty- 
seven  cents  each,  and  oftentimes  for  less. 

"The  Mexican  can  not  do  without  the  Indian.  Farms  would  be  deserted, 
lands  untilled,  cattle  unattended,  and  the  markets  entirely  deserted,  were  it  not 
for  the  poor,  patient,  despised  Indian.  Worse  still,  the  poor  Indian  is  the  sta- 
ple food  of  the  cannon,  and  without  him  the  Mexican  would  be  unable  to  sustain 
his  revolutions. 

"  It  may  be  asked,  how  is  it  that  the  Indians,  being  in  such  a  great  numerical 
majority,  allow  themselves  to  be  down-trodden  by  the  few  Mexicans  who  rule 
them  ?  It  is  because  Romanism  has  so  effectually  blighted  and  crushed  out  their 
old  chivalry  and  love  of  liberty,  and  has  steeped  them  in  a  degrading  and  pro- 
found ignorance.  Excepting  the  few  who,  within  the  past  few  years,  have  become 
acquainted  with  God's  word  by  means  of  Protestantism,  we  shall  be  safe  in  say- 
ing that  not  a  single  soul  among  them  has  ever  read  a  line  of  the  Bible. 

"  Very  few  of  the  men  can  read  or  write.  National  schools  are  found  in  some 
of  the  villages,  but  only  for  boys.  Schools  for  girls  are  almost  unknown.  Per- 
haps a  few  are  found  in  the  cities  ;  but  in  the  smaller  towns  and  villages  they 
are  unheard  of.  Thus  the  Indian  women  are  kept  in  profound  ignorance  ;  a  vast 
majority  of  the  men  are  the  same.  This  mighty  engine  of  darkness,  wielded  by 
the  skill  and  cunning  of  Romish  priests,  has  produced  the  fearful  uncleanliness 
of  body  and  soul,  the  stupid  superstition,  and  bloody  fanaticism  which  now  char- 
acterize the  Indian  of  Mexico. 

"Underlying  this  patient  humility  and  subjection  to  their  Mexican  lords,  the 
Indian  nourishes  a  deep-seated  and  ever-augmenting  hatred  of  his  whiter  coun- 
trymen. The  Indian  and  the  Mexican  races  do  not  mingle,  except  in  isolated 
and  exceptional  cases.  The  Indian,  in  his  necessary  intercourse  with  the  Mex- 
ican, naturally  acquires  a  knowledge  of  the  Spanish  language  ;  but  they  jealously 
avoid  speaking  that  tongue  unless  compelled  by  necessity.  In  their  homes  not 
a  word  of  Spanish  is  heard  ;  the  women  scrupulously  avoid  learning  it,  and  of 
course  the  children  grow  up  without  understanding  a  word.  I  have  gone  through 
whole  villages  and  not  found  a  single  woman  or  child  who  could  speak  Spanish. 
I  have  also  observed,  on  large  haciendas,  where  hundreds  of  Indians  are  employ- 
ed, and  where  they  daily  hear  Spanish  spoken,  many  of  the  women,  who  come 
weekly  to  the  pay-office  to  take  up  their  husband's  miserable  salaries,  although 
understanding  Spanish,  nothing  will  induce  them  to  speak  it ;  and  some  bailiff 
or  head  workman,  an  Indian  also,  always  acts  as  interpreter.  I  lis  aversion  to 
speaking  Spanish  is  also  seen  in  religious  matters.  The  Indian  refuses  to  con- 
fess to  the  priest  except  in  his  own  native  tongue.     Very  few  priests  understand 


464  APPENDIX  C. 

those  tongues  ;  and  to  surmount  the  difficulty  the  priest  has  a  list  of  written 
questions  and  answers,  which  he  learns  to  pronounce  like  a  parrot.  When  the 
Indian  presents  himself,  the  priest  reads  question  No.  I.  If  the  Indian  replies 
in  accordance  with  the  written  answer,  well  and  good  ;  but  if  not,  the  priest  reads 
again,  until,  by  good  luck,  the  right  word  is  uttered,  and  the  hitch  overcome. 
The  priest  who  explained  this  ingenious  mode  of  confessing  was  somewhat  per- 
plexed when  I  remarked :  '  But  suppose  the  Indian  confesses  to  some  sin  not 
down  on  the  list ;  what  then  ?'  The  Indian  is  always  treated  as  an  inferior  crea- 
ture. The  priest  requires  his  Mexican  parishioners  to  confess  and  receive  the 
sacrament  very  frequently ;  but  the  Indian  is  not  expected  to  confess  oftener 
than  once  a  year,  and,  as  a  rule,  he  receives  the  communion  only  at  marriage  and 
when  about  to  die.  Once  in  a  lifetime  is  considered  enough  for  him.  The 
march  of  Liberalism  has  done  much  to  alter  this  state  of  affairs ;  but  not  many 
years  ago  the  Indian  might  confess,  but  could  not  commune  without  a  special  li- 
cense. So  great  is  the  chasm  which  separates  the  Mexican  from  the  Indian, 
that  the  title  of  'gente  de  razon?  or  people  of  reason,  is  given  to  the  former. 
Nothing  is  more  common  than  the  expression,  '  Is  he  an  Indian  ?'  '  No,  he  is 
"  de  razon ;" '  thus  making  the  Mexican  to  be  a  reasonable  being,  in  contradis- 
tinction to  the  poor  despised  Indian,  who  ranks  only  with  beasts  of  burden. 
The  Mexican  Indian  is  essentially  religious ;  his  whole  life  seems  devoted  to  the 
service  of  the  priests  and  saints ;  his  earnings  are  all  devoted  to  wax-candles 
and  rockets  to  be  burned  on  feast-days,  and  he  seems  to  think  of  nothing  but 
processions  and  pilgrimages  to  some  distant  shrine.  Since  the  days  of  his  Az- 
tecan  forefathers,  the  only  change  which  the  Indian  has  undergone  in  religion  is 
that  of  adoring  a  San  Antonio  instead  of  his  ancient  god, '  Huitzilopochtle  ;'  and, 
with  this  slight  change  in  the  objects  of  his  worship,  he  continues  to  adore  on  the 
same  sacred  spots,  and  with  many  of  the  ceremonies,  and  with  all  the  ignorance 
and  superstitious  zeal  as  did  his  pagan  forefathers. 

"  The  Roman  Catholic  priests,  in  days  gone  by,  in  order  to  divert  the  Indians 
from  their  Aztec  idolatries,  adopted  the  ingenious  plan  of  going  by  night  to  some 
heathen  temple,  removing  the  old  idol,  and  placing  in  its  stead  a  crucifix  or  some 
Catholic  saint.  The  next  day  the  Indians  were  amazed  to  find  a  new  god  in- 
stead of  the  old  one,  and  at  once  accepted  the  change  ;  they  continued  their  wor- 
ship as  before.  Cannibalism  and  human  sacrifices  have  died  out ;  but,  if  we 
view  the  Indian's  present  religion  from  his  own  stand-point,  we  shall  see  that 
really  he  finds  not  one  single  point  of  difference.  In  his  old  Aztec  religion  he 
had  a  water  baptism,  confession  to  priests,  numerous  gods  to  adore,  and  whose 
aid  he  invoked  under  various  circumstances.  He  worshiped  images  of  wood 
or  stone  ;  employed  flowers  and  fruits  as  offerings,  and  incense  also,  and  offered 
fellow-beings  in  sacrifice,  while  he  also  worshiped  a  goddess  whom  he  styled 
'  Our  Mother ;'  and  in  his  worship  dances  and  pantomimes  took  a  prominent 


APPENDIX  C.  465 

rank.  In  his  new  Roman  Catholic  religion  he  finds  baptism  and  confession ;  a 
great  host  of  saints  to  adore — saints  for  every  circumstance  or  ill  of  life  ;  he  finds 
images  better  made,  and  of  richer  material  than  the  old  ones ;  he  again  employs 
fruits,  and  flowers,  and  incense  ;  worships  another  goddess  as  '  Mother  of  God,' 
and  '  Queen  of  Heaven,'  and  'Our  Lady.'  He  is  also  taught  to  believe  that  not 
a  mere  fellow-being  is  sacrificed,  but  his  Creator  Himself— as  the  Romanists  de- 
clare, in  real  and  actual  sacrifice,  thousands  of  times  every  day ;  and,  as  of  old, 
the  Indian  still  dances  and  performs  pantomimes  in  his  religious  festivals. 
Where,  then,  is  the  difference  ? 

"As  a  proof  of  some  of  my  assertions,  I  will  mention  a  few  facts.  In  the  large 
town  of  '  Yinacautepec,'  distant  about  two  leagues  from  Toluca,  I  visited  the 
annual  feast  on  various  occasions.  It  draws  an  immense  number  of  spectators 
from  all  parts,  and  for  several  days  bull -fights,  and  cock-fights,  and  religious  pro- 
cessions hold  sway.  The  procession  is  a  very  gorgeous  affair,  and  issues  from 
the  church.  Banners,  and  wax-candles,  and  images  in  great  number  ;  music  by 
the  band,  and  rockets  whizzing  ;  but  the  greatest  feature  of  all  consists  of  a  num- 
ber of  Indians  dressed  in  grotesque  attires,  with  skins  of  animals,  bulls'  horns, 
cows'  tails,  and  some  with  their  heads  helmeted  with  the  entire  skin  of  game- 
cocks— altogether  forming  a  wildly  fantastic  mob,  shouting  and  dancing  around 
their  priests  and  saints  like  so  many  imps  from  the  lower  regions.  The  famous 
church  of  '  La  Villa  de  Guadalupe,'  near  the  city  of  Mexico,  is  built  on  the  site 
of  an  old  Aztec  temple,  and  the  Roman  Catholic  priests  adopted  their  usual  plan 
of  removing  the  old  and  replacing  it  with  the  new  one,  and  by  means  of  a  pre- 
tended apparition  have  made  '  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe '  become  the  patron  saint 
of  Mexico. 

"The  far-famed  convent  of  'El  Seiior  de  Chalma,'  about  fourteen  leagues  to 
the  south  of  Toluca,  is  another  instance.  It  is  the  favorite  shrine  of  all  the  In- 
dian tribes  of  the  land.  Formerly,  before  the  convent  was  built,  the  place  was 
occupied  by  an  Aztec  idol,  located  in  a  cave.  This  idol  existed  long  after  Ro- 
man Catholic  churches  had  been  built  in  neighboring  towns  ;  and  the  Indians, 
when  they  wished  to  have  a  child  baptized,  would  first  carry  the  infant  to  be 
blessed  by  their  Aztec  god,  and  from  there  would  go  to  the  Romish  church  and 
complete  the  ceremony.  To  make  the  most  of  this  propensity,  the  Catholics, 
in  their  usual  fashion,  stole  the  idol  from  the  cave  and  placed  there  the  present 
'Lord  of  Chalma,'  which  is  a  crucifix,  the  Saviour  being  painted  copper-color. 
This  apparition  gave  rise  to  a  convent  being  built ;  and  all  the  year  round  the 
Indians,  whole  families,  and  whole  towns,  make  pilgrimages  from  all  parts  of  the 
land  to  the  said  convent.  The  sales  of  candles  and  the  Popish  requisites  arc 
enormous.  A  shop  is  attached  to  the  convent,  where  the  poor  Indians  buy  their 
candles,  which  they  carry  to  the  priests,  who  remit  them  by  a  back-door  to  the 
shop  again,  where  they  are  sold  and  sold  again  many  times  over.    But  here,  also, 


466  APPENDIX  D. 

the  chief  feature  of  the  Indian  worship  consists  in  dances  inside  the  church, 
which  is  of  great  size.  Eye-witnesses  assure  me  that  at  one  time  can  be  seen  as 
many  as  sixteen  distinct  groups  of  dancers,  each  group  with  its  separate  band  of 
music,  all  playing  different  tunes  at  the  same  time,  and  the  worshipers  tripping  it 
merrily  in  different  dances,  producing  a  Babel  confusion  and  a  grotesque  panto- 
mime, which  baffles  description. 

"  These  are  of  daily  occurrence,  and  are  a  true  and  faithful  specimen  of  the 
spiritual  condition  of  the  Mexican  Indians  of  to-day." 


APPENDIX  D. 

The  following  placard  and  commentary  show  something  of  the  perils  our 
cause  has  to  undergo.  Their  dates  are  late,  and  they,  or  others  like  them,  we 
fear,  are  not  yet  concluded. 

[Translated  from  El  Monitor  Republicano,  September  27,  1S73.J 


•'DEATH  TO  THE  PROTESTANTS !  ! 

"To  THE  People  of  Toluca, — Either  you  are  Catholic  by  name,  or  Catho- 
lics in  fact.  If  you  are  Catholics  in  faith,  give  a  terrible  blow  to  these  savages, 
intruders,  and  adventurers,  who,  to  make  themselves  appear  wise  and  important, 
and  to  assure  to  themselves  a  future  without  labor,  attempt  that  which  they  do 
not  understand — that  band  of  filthy  scoundrels,  deluded  sons  of  all  the  devils. 
Let  us  rise  en  masse  to  finish  at  once  this  accursed  race,  whose  proper  place  is  in 
hell,  which  is  not  complete  without  them.  With  one  sure  blow  insure  their  death 
and  the  death  of  their  families.  Let  a  fiery  death  exterminate  this  sect  of  ac- 
cursed wretches,  who  attempt  to  overthrow  the  Apostolic  Roman  Catholic  relig- 
ion, in  which  we  will  live  and  die. 

"  Unfurl  proudly  the  standard  of  the  Faith,  and  shout, '  Long  live  the  religion  ! 
Viva  la  religion  !  !     Death  to  the  sons  of  Satan  !  !  !' " 


APPENDIX  D.  467 

[Translated  from  the  Revista  Universal,  Mexico,  October  29,  1873. J 

"ACTIONS  OF  GOOD  CATHOLICS. 

"ASSAULT  ON  THE  HOUSE  OF  A   PROTESTANT. 

"HE  AND  HIS  AGED  PARENTS  ARE  WOUNDED  BY  THE  PSEUDO- 

CA  THOLICS. 

"LAUDABLE  CONDUCT  OF  THE  GOVERNOR  OF  THE  STATE  OF 

MEXICO. 

"A  few  days  ago  we  published  a  placard,  which  was  circulated  in  Toluca, di- 
rected against  the  Protestants  of  that  city,  and  exciting  the  'good  Catholics'  to 
try  to  kill  all  the  said  Protestants  in  those  parts. 

"  So  it  seems  that  the  excitement  is  extending.  We  have  tidings  from  Toluca 
in  which  we  are  informed  that  a  Mr.  Valero,  an  invalid,  was  attacked  in  his  own 
house  in  Metepec  by  a  party  of 'good  Catholics,'  who,  armed  with  swords  and 
muskets,  entered  the  dwelling  of  said  Protestant,  wounding  him,  and  then  left 
him  nearly  dead. 

"  Of  course  those  barbarians  did  not  make  their  incursion  without  insulting 
and  using  filthy  words  toward  the  Christians,  and  the  unfortunate  Valero's  moth- 
er, whom  they*  also  wounded. 

"  The  aged  father  was  also  seriously  wounded  by  the  '  bandidos  religiosos,' 
and  it  is  greatly  feared  that  his  son  will  die  shortly. 

"  The  Governor  of  the  State  has  put  forth  energetic  measures  for  the  appre- 
hension of  these  invaders,  and  those  upon  whom  the  responsibility  rests  of  exe- 
cuting justice  with  them  will  fulfill  their  duty  ;  these  infractors  will  see  that  such 
perpetrations  will  not  escape  the  power  of  justice." 


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